


We'll Still Have The Summer

by allyasavedtheday



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe- Hotel Staff, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Pining, Prank Wars, Slow Build, Summer, Unresolved Sexual Tension, imma be real this is just pure fluff okay that's all, luggage cart races, midnight swimming, pillow forts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 01:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2090928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyasavedtheday/pseuds/allyasavedtheday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s too busy waxing poetic in his own head about the surly – <em>dreamy</em> – dude holding the sign for the hotel to notice Scott already making his way over. He pauses halfway when he realises Stiles isn’t following him, turning around and eyeing Stiles curiously, “Dude, come on, the guy’s waiting.”</p><p>Stiles snaps himself into action and pushes his cart carrying his suitcases over to where Scott’s introducing himself to Stiles’ future husband.</p><p>“-And this is Stiles,” Scott is saying just as Stiles arrives next to him.</p><p>“I’m Derek,” the guy replies gruffly, folding the sign up and tucking it under his arm. “I’ll be taking you back to the hotel.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Still Have The Summer

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i've never worked in a hotel and my knowledge is legitimately based off nothing but distant childhood memories of those Saved by the Bell episodes where they worked at a resort, High School Musical 2 and The Suite Life so this is me pleading creative licence in the name of sterek
> 
> Fic title comes from Summer Boy by Lady Gaga!

Stiles stares out the airplane window, excitement bubbling underneath his skin as he watches the clouds part and the sun begin to peek out as they slowly move away from Northern California.

“I can’t believe we’re spending the summer in  _Hawaii!”_  Scott exclaims right in Stiles’ ear while he half leans on him to look out the window too – it’s about the twentieth time he’s said it since they got the news a few days ago. Stiles isn’t tired of hearing it yet.

“I can’t believe our parents thought we were dumb enough to believe that they found out about those jobs on the _internet_  and not when they went away on a secret romantic getaway the week before we came home for spring break,” Stiles snorts. You’d think, being a cop, his dad would be a better liar but no.

Scott laughs, slouching back in his seat, “I still say we should Parent Trap ‘em, dude.”

“Why? They’re already together,” Stiles reasons, tearing his eyes away from the window and reaching for the sky magazine stuck in the sleeve of the chair in front of him.

“Yeah and if we plan something like that they’ll actually have to admit it,” Scott explains before falling silent. When Stiles looks up from the crappy magazine he sees a dubious and mildly horrified look on his best friend’s face.

“You don’t think that they-“ Scott makes a vague hand gesture, grimacing. “Got us these jobs so they could be  _alone_  for the summer?”

When Scott’s words sink in Stiles honestly considers diving for the puke bag poking out of the chair pocket. “Dude,  _gross_ ,” he complains, scrunching up his face in distaste and shoving Scott’s shoulder. “You think our parents sexiled us to Hawaii?!”

Scott makes a face – no doubt at Stiles’ choice of words, whatever, he brought it up. “I don’t know? Maybe?” he answers weakly.

“You’ve officially ruined this vacay, Scotty.  _Ruined_ ,” Stiles declares dramatically.

“If we’re getting sexiled anywhere, Hawaii’s not exactly the worst place,” Scott mumbles petulantly and Stiles considers that for a moment.

“You’re right,” he decides. “Congratulations, you saved the vacation.”

Scott rolls his eyes but Stiles can see the pleased smile he’s fighting to keep off his face. He settles back in his seat, flipping to the back of the magazine to see what food they’re offering on the flight.

“Flag down the air hostess, would you?” Stiles requests. “I want Pringles.”

“Airplane Pringles suck, you complain every time you get them because the tin always looks like it’s about to explode,” Scott tells him. He sounds like a long-suffering parent explaining to his kid why he can’t have any more candy.

“Well man has been flying for a long time, you’d think they’d learn how to make my chips taste the way they should,” Stiles argues and Scott puts in his earphones. They’ve had this discussion a lot.

“Do you think our rooms at the hotel will be nice?” Stiles asks after they’ve been quiet for approximately ninety seconds.

Scott shrugs with the patience of a saint – he’s the only person in the entire world who can sit with Stiles on a plane for about six hours and not get bored of him or his random thoughts. “Don’t even pretend you haven’t been researching the fuck out of the resort since we got the job,” he snorts.

Stiles smiles back sheepishly but continues questioning him. “Pictures can be misleading!” he protests and Scott laughs.

“It’s a five star resort, dude. I’m sure they’ll be nice.”

“But they have to save the really nice ones for the guests!”

“Well they have a good reputation for a reason so their boarder rooms for the summer staff are probably just as awesome.”

Stiles sighs, digging the brochure that had been sent to him with his contract out of his backpack.

“Dude, you can swim with turtles at this place,” he says in fascination, not even batting an eyelid when Scott’s chin thunks down on his shoulder and he’s suddenly got a face full of black hair as Scott tries to read the passage about it.

“That’s so cool! We’re gonna see so many awesome animals there,” Scott says excitedly. The veterinary nerd in him is probably going insane at the thought.

“I think I’m gonna learn to surf,” Stiles muses aloud as he peruses the rest of the brochure and Scott laughs before quickly muffling it with his hand when Stiles pins him with a look.

“I’m sorry,” he says, genuinely sounding apologetic. “But you’re not exactly… _graceful.”_

“I could learn,” Stiles sniffs as Scott nods encouragingly and now he feels bad because he thinks Scott’s actually worried he upset him. Welp, change the subject it is, then! “Think we’ll find the loves of our lives over there?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows suggestively and Scott snorts.

“Does our collective inability to talk to anyone either of us finds attractive not apply in Hawaii?” Scott asks in faux astonishment.

Stiles elbows him, rolling his eyes. “Shut up. For all you know, your future wife could be at that hotel.”

“And what about your future spouse?” Scott asks with a grin.

“He or she is waiting for me with bated breath,” Stiles says haughtily, trying not to smirk as Scott curls in on himself, snickering.

“I’m sure they can’t wait,” he tells Stiles, wheezing as he tries to catch his breath.

*

Stiles maintains he’s never felt anything more magical than that first moment when he steps off the plane and the warm breeze literally feels like it’s caressing his face.

He stumbles down the steps of the plane with Scott, backpacks slung over their shoulders, while they both attempt to suppress their elated grins as they look up at the clear, cloudless blue sky. Summer in Beacon Hills is always hot but it’s an uncomfortable, humid heat that makes you wanna stay inside with the air-con on full blast rather than lounge outside working on your tan.

Once they get to the arrivals department Stiles stands at the luggage carousel impatiently, tapping his foot and watching the suitcases slowly start to trickle out as Scott fiddles with his phone beside him, trying to turn it off airplane mode.

“Dude, I see your case.” Stiles nudges his best friend after a few minutes and Scott looks up, stepping forward and holding a hand out in anticipation for the red suitcase sliding around the corner of the carousel.

The rest of their bags thankfully follow behind it a moment later and then they’re wandering through the airport, Stiles’ face stuck in the sheet the hotel sent them, explaining who’d be picking them up.

“It says the guy’ll have a sign with the hotel’s logo and our names on it,” he says idly, peering at the paper.

“Heh, that makes us seem like we’re really important,” Scott replies happily.

Stiles raises an eyebrow at him before very obviously giving their rumpled t-shirts, shorts and ratty sneakers a once over. “Yeah, we’re really important,” he deadpans.

Scott rolls his eyes, jostling him lightly as they make their way to the collection area, next to all the rental car places. Stiles pauses, feeling Scott do the same beside him, and scans the room for someone holding a sign with their names. The person Stiles’ eyes land on, well, let’s just say Stiles feels a little like his eyes have been ruined for the rest of his life because they’re never gonna look at anyone as beautiful as that ever again.

He’s too busy waxing poetic in his own head about the surly –  _dreamy_  – dude holding the sign for the hotel to notice Scott already making his way over. He pauses halfway when he realises Stiles isn’t following him, turning around and eyeing Stiles curiously, “Dude, come on, the guy’s waiting.”

Stiles snaps himself into action and pushes the cart carrying his suitcases over to where Scott’s introducing himself to Stiles’ future husband.

“-And this is Stiles,” Scott is saying just as Stiles arrives next to him.

“I’m Derek,” the guy replies gruffly, folding the sign up and tucking it under his arm. “I’ll be taking you back to the hotel.”

Stiles might squeal internally with glee but no one can prove that.

*

Stiles resists tackling Scott to ride shotgun – but only barely – and instead settles for giving him a meaningful look and hoping their acutely honed telepathy still works in Hawaii. It must because Scott bursts out laughing before climbing into the backseat. Derek gives him a peculiar look as he closes the trunk but doesn’t comment, moving around to the driver seat.

Stiles clambers in quickly, buckling up and beaming at Derek while he starts the car. Derek gives him another odd look but only shakes his head before peeling the car out of its parking spot.

“So Derek,” Stiles says breezily. “How long have you been a driver for the hotel?”

Derek doesn’t take his eyes off the road but Stiles can see him lift an eyebrow. “I’m not a driver, I’m a concierge,” he answers flatly.

“Oh.” Stiles narrows his eyes. “So why are you picking us up then?”

“You’re the last of the summer staff to arrive and the transfer place messed up the booking. I had the day off so they asked if I could go get you.”

“Oh,” Stiles repeats, wracking his brain for something to talk about. Scott - angel that he is - saves him, probably figuring Stiles’ brain-to-mouth filter doesn’t tend to work around the aesthetically pleasing.

“Are you summer staff too?” Scott asks interestedly from the back seat.

Derek briefly meets his eye in the rear-view mirror and nods, “Yeah I’ve worked here for the last three summers.”

“Where are you from originally?” Stiles asks, feeling a renewed sense of confidence. He can totally talk to Derek and not make it ridiculously obvious he’s trying not to salivate over the guy’s biceps. He can be  _subtle_.

“California,” Derek responds simply.

Stiles sits up straight in his seat, trying to lean toward Derek before being strangled by his seatbelt but it doesn’t deter him. “Dude, no way! Scott and I are from California!”

Derek makes some sort of non-committal grunt and doesn’t look like he’s gonna say anymore so Stiles elaborates.

“Yep! Beacon Hills, born and bred,” he declares with misplaced pride –  _no one_  should be proud to be from Beacon Hills.

Derek gets this pinched up look on his face and his eyes widen minutely but he doesn’t say anything.

After that, Stiles makes a few more pitiful attempts at conversation throughout the rest of their journey.

(“What’s the hotel like?”

“Nice.”

 

“Are the people nice?”

“I guess?”

 

“What’s fun around here?”

“Depends on what you like.”)

He eventually decides that Derek – beautiful though he is – isn’t much of a talker. Scott gives up on conversation after about ten minutes, choosing instead to stare out the window and give the ocean wistful looks. Stiles begrudgingly accepts sitting in silence about fifteen minutes before they make it to the resort.

When they actually arrive at the hotel all thoughts of Derek and his sinful attractiveness and lack of people skills temporarily leave Stiles’ mind. He hears Scott’s faint gasp as he leans forward to look out the windshield and Stiles himself is a little lost for words.

The place is  _beautiful_ ; the hotel towers upward in gleaming white and cream, surrounded by greenery that makes the place look alive. As they curve around the back to get to the parking lot Stiles can faintly hear the sound of splashing water and the delighted squeals of kids, no doubt coming from the pool area.

“You should see it at night,” Derek says quietly and Stiles looks over at him, still wide-eyed, to see Derek watching him instead of the road.

Derek offers him a small smile. “There’s a light on each of the walls of the hotel room balconies so the whole place lights up,” he continues.

Stiles feels his lips tugging up into a smile despite himself as Derek reverts his gaze back to scanning the place for a parking spot almost shyly.

“ _Awesome_ ,” Scott declares, still staring slack-jawed out the window even though all they can really see now are cars.

Derek parks the car in the employee parking lot and once Stiles and Scott have grabbed all their stuff he begins stalking off in the direction of the hotel. Stiles shares a perplexed look with Scott before shrugging and following along.

It might take them a little longer than Derek to actually make it to the front desk since they keep pausing every three seconds to look at one thing or another. Stiles is just admiring the water fountain in the middle of the lobby when he hears Derek exasperated huff behind him.

Stiles turns around and there Derek is, just  _flexing his muscles_ while he crosses his arms. God how is he even allowed work here? He probably blinds the guests with his stupid face.

Stiles gives him an innocent look and Derek rolls his eyes, making a “Come on,” sort of gesture before striding back to the front desk where Scott must’ve meandered over to while exploring. Whoops. He tightens his grip on his suitcase and bags and hurries after Derek to meet a dark-haired man that has a serious case of the crazy eyes.

“Stiles, Scott,” Derek says, gesturing to the man. “This is Mr. Finstock.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man cuts in, waving his hand dismissively. “Call me Bobby, call me Coach, call me Cupcake but  _don’t_  call me Mister.”

Stiles gives Scott a confused look and mouths, “ _Cupcake_?” but Scott only shrugs as if to say, “ _Just go with it?”_

“Now, what are the names again?” Finstock asks impatiently.

 Stiles steps forward, “Uh, Stiles Stilinski-“

“And Scott McCall,” Scott adds.

“Right, right,” Finstock says but it sounds like he’s not really listening. He starts clicking things on the computer and then nods to himself, turning around and grabbing two key cards. “You’re in room 207; I’m guessing you can find it yourselves?”

“You got it, Coach!” Stiles replies, giving a salute and hoping using one of his boss’ apparent nicknames gets him on the guy’s good side.

Finstock barely notices but Derek makes a noise that could be a laugh.

“Your job’s easy,” Finstock adds. “You just put the guests’ luggage on the luggage cart and take it to their rooms or get them whatever else they might need – room service, that kinda stuff. You already got your uniforms?”

“Yes, sir,” Scott says uncertainly. Stiles sympathises, Finstock seems like that kinda guy who’d always have you on edge because you never know how he’ll react next.

“Good. Derek will be on with you tomorrow so bug him if you have any questions.”

“But-“ Derek tries to interject but Finstock’s already moving out from behind the desk, heading across the foyer.

“Hale, I don’t have time for this,” Finstock says, turning around briefly. “I’ve only got an hour lunch break and a forty-five minute massage booked. I’m  _busy_.”

All three of them sort of just stand in awkward silence after that, trying to get  _that_  delightful image out of their heads.

“Sooo,” Scott says eventually. “That’s…the owner?”

Derek scoffs, “Hardly. Finstock’s the manager. He sits behind the front desk when it suits him; otherwise he just goes from floor to floor delegating orders.”

“He sounds fun,” Stiles observes sarcastically.

Derek shrugs, “He’s not so bad. You get used to him.”

Stiles rounds on Derek then, grinning. “So I guess we’re work buddies now, huh?”

Derek raises an incredulous eyebrow, folding his arms again. “Guess again.”

“But-“ Stiles tries to protest but Scott’s already grabbing his arm and tugging him away.

“Can we go to our room now? I’m dead tired and I need a shower.”

Stiles glares at him and Scott just stares back because Stiles always caves for him eventually and he knows it. “ _Fine_ ,” he grumbles.

Scott grins and starts herding him to the elevator. “Thanks for the ride, Derek!” he calls over his shoulder.

“Sure,” Derek says vaguely. When Stiles cranes his neck to try and look back Derek’s giving them both a curious look like the one he gave Scott when he started snickering back at the airport. Ugh. Even confused he looks good.

*

It’s not that hard to find their room; the elevator opens out onto the second floor and a sign tells them all the boarding staff bedrooms are down the corridor on the right. Once they’ve lugged all their crap down the hall to room 207, opening the door and actually getting to go inside is sweet relief.

They both take a moment to stare at the two double beds sitting in front of them, pristinely made and practically overflowing with pillows. Scott and Stiles share a look, grinning at each other before dropping everything and bounding towards their beds, landing with a bounce.

Stiles lets out a delighted laugh as he sinks into the mattress – god he could get used to this.

“I could totally get used to this,” Scott says, echoing his thoughts.

Stiles rolls his head to the left to see Scott still grinning at him. “This summer’s gonna kick ass, dude,” Stiles tells him, just about restraining himself from all-out  _giggling_  about what the next three months are gonna be like.

Scott nods in agreement, sighing contentedly and closing his eyes.

“We should go explore,” Stiles says a moment later, heaving himself off the bed.

Scott groans and clutches one of the pillows to his chest. “ _Dude,”_  he whines. “We were just on a five and a half hour flight, I’m exhausted. I wasn’t just saying that earlier to stop you embarrassing yourself in front of Derek.”

Stiles stops in his tracks, giving Scott an affronted look. “Wha- I- I didn’t-“ he splutters indignantly. “I wouldn’t have  _embarrassed_  myself in front of Derek.”

Scott lifts his head with some effort and silently raises his eyebrows at Stiles.

“I  _wouldn’t_ ,” he insists.

“Uh huh,” Scott agrees sarcastically, letting his head drop back onto the bed again.

Stiles huffs and flops onto Scott’s bed next to him, landing on his stomach and propping himself up on his elbows. “So am I being as painfully obvious as always then?”

Scott rolls onto his side and smiles kindly at him. “Naw dude, I think Derek just thinks you’re weird.”

Stiles huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Better than nothing I guess.”

“Hey we’ve got all summer,” Scott says, ever the optimist. “Right now though, we should nap. We can go exploring before dinner.”

Stiles gives Scott a lopsided smile and nods, sitting up and moving to his own bed. “Fiiiine.”

*

A few hours later they’re wandering around the resort, scoping about the pool area. Stiles has been surreptitiously trying to keep an eye out for Derek but so far, no dice. The pool’s awesome though and even at 5:30 the place is still pretty full. Stiles is one hundred percent positive he’ll be getting acquainted with the Jacuzzi pretty soon.

Scott starts toward the large hut on the other side of the pool that Stiles realises is the poolside bar once they get closer. There’s one or two guests milling around but they’re moving back to their sun loungers with their drinks when Scott and Stiles arrive. Inside are two curly haired blondes, laughing together as the guy wipes down the bar and the girl dries glasses. They look up when Scott and Stiles come in, smiling good-naturedly.

“What can I getcha?” the girl asks, resting her forearms on the bar.

“Oh we’re just looking around,” Scott explains. “Summer staff - we start as bellboys tomorrow.”

The boy looks up interestedly and the girl smirks devilishly – she’s kind of terrifying honestly.

“Well in that case,” she says, holding out a hand. “I’m Erica. This is Isaac.”

“Stiles,” he greets, shaking her hand and then moving to shake Isaac’s. “This is my buddy, Scott.”

They go through the motions of everybody shaking hands and then Erica leans on the bar as Isaac chucks the dish rag on the counter behind him and joins her.

“So what d’you think of the place so far?”

“It looks like heaven,” Stiles gushes unashamedly and Scott nods fervently in agreement.

“It  _is_  pretty great,” Isaac laughs. “Have you met anybody else yet?”

“Just Derek. The concierge I think?” Stiles tries for casual, like he hasn’t been having vivid fantasies about the guy for hours but judging by the smirk Erica gives him, he fails. Then again, that could just be her regular face.

“Aw Derek’s our bestie,” Erica coos and Isaac rolls her eyes.

“Derek’s Boyd’s bestie,” Isaac counters. “He just tolerates you.”

Erica elbows him, “What about you, asshole? Does he only “tolerate” you too?”

“I’m the son he begrudgingly adopted,” Isaac shrugs as if that’s a completely rational way to define a relationship with another person.

Erica huffs but doesn’t disagree. “Derek  _loves_  me,” she tells him before turning back to Scott and Stiles. “Derek’s such an old man, it’s endearing as hell. You’re gonna have a lot of fun with him.”

Stiles grins – god he likes the sound of that.

“So who else should we know around here?” Scott asks after rolling his eyes at Stiles in some weird combination of fond and exasperated that only looks inoffensive when he does it.

Erica leans further over the bar, batting at Stiles’ side to move him out of the way and points out the door towards the lifeguard station.

“The guy with the light brown hair that’s sitting on his chair like it’s a throne is Jackson,” Isaac supplies with a snort.

“And the other fine piece of man candy is my boyfriend, Boyd,” Erica adds proudly, pointing at the beefier guy sitting next to Jackson, looking bored but also scanning the pool routinely.

“You’ll probably meet them when you try out the pool for the first time,” Isaac tells them.

“Oh you should meet Allison out at the pool too,” Erica says a moment later. “She runs the kids club in the mornings and does all the pool activities. She’s a sweetheart.”

Stiles nods, repeating the names in his head to try and remember them. “Who else?”

They both ponder that for a second before Isaac lights up. “Lydia and Danny work as maîtres d’s in the restaurant, they’re summer staff too but their job kinda makes them the most memorable out of all the other wait staff.”

“And because you have a crush on Danny,” Erica mutters under her breath, looking away innocently and holding back her smirk.

“I  _do not,”_  Isaac huffs, slapping her arm lightly.

“Whatever you say,” Erica singsongs. “They’re the most memorable because from June to August they essentially run the restaurant. No one really gave them permission; they just sort of do it anyway.”

Complete disregard for authority, Stiles likes that in his friends.

“Oh, there’s Kira too,” Isaac adds. “She works in the gym. She’s tiny but she’s a firecracker.”

“And  _that’s_  all the people we associate ourselves with,” Erica concludes, fluttering her eyelashes and smiling charmingly.

“Good to know,” Scott chuckles.

“If you need anything, just let us know,” Isaac says politely. “But don’t ask Derek because he’s cranky and you need to get on his good side before you go asking for favours.”

“Now if I were you two, I’d order room service and rest up,” Erica advises. “Derek’s not gonna go easy on you tomorrow.”

Stiles might get a little side-tracked at the images  _that_  produces in his mind but Scott just drags him along, giving the others a friendly “It was nice to meet you!” on both their behalves.

*

The next morning Stiles wakes to a shrill ringing in his ears. He groans like he’s in pain, sticking a hand out from under the covers and batting it around blindly until it lands on the hotel room phone. He lifts it to his ear, grinds out the angriest “hello” in the world and is greeted with a chirpy, automated voice telling him this is his wake up call and to  _have a nice day_.

He drops the phone and cracks an eye open to check the time on his cell.  _Six forty-five_. Stiles is going to murder somebody. They don’t start work for another _two_  hours. He looks over to Scott’s bed and sees he’s completely buried himself in his blankets in an attempt to ignore the phone ringing. Stiles decides that’s not such a bad idea and rolls over, smushing his face into his pillow.

They stumble down to reception two hours later, bleary-eyed and clutching travel mugs of coffee. Stiles had tried in vain to go back to sleep after being woken up but he couldn’t. He was just starting to drift off again when the alarm on his phone went off.

When they reach the front desk Derek is standing behind it in the customary concierge uniform of a crisp white shirt and a deep green vest, sporting a cheerful, albeit probably fake, smile.

“Good morning!” he exclaims and Stiles cringes. Why is he being  _so loud?_  He only spent like an hour with Derek yesterday but he can already tell the dude’s not a happy-go-lucky, annoyingly chipper person. He seems more like a stoic and silent storm cloud of hotness. But there’s an almost smug tilt to Derek’s grin and suddenly it all clicks.

“It was  _you!”_  Stiles accuses, scandalised. “You arranged that bogus wake-up call.”

“It was your first day, I didn’t want you to be late,” Derek replies innocently.

Scott only grunts, still half-asleep, and slips in behind the counter to find their nametags.

Stiles has never been so conflicted about wanting to stab someone and wanting to jump their bones – Derek’s an evil little shit, this is terrible. Now Stiles’ mild appreciation of his appearance is gonna be amped up to an all-out _crush_. Gross. A string of curse words flow through his mind and he tries to settle on the most effective one to show Derek just how much he loathes him in this moment but then he notices he’s in a lobby full of guests. Derek obviously notices too because he grins triumphantly.

Eventually Stiles settles for glowering at Derek and telling him, “I hope you realise that you’ve just opened yourself up to a world of pranks.”

Derek scoffs, “Pretty sure I can handle it.”

Stiles is about to make a snappy retort when a couple brush past him and up to the front desk. And suddenly Derek is all charming smiles and “how can I help you”s.

Scott comes around the desk then, pressing a nametag into Stiles’ chest before dragging him along to grab one of the luggage carts tucked into the corner of the room.

Derek sends him a tiny smirk when Stiles returns to load the couple’s suitcases onto the cart. All he can think is,  _Game on, Derek._

*

The rest of the day goes pretty well; being a bellboy’s not particularly taxing except for dealing with fussy guests. He lets Scott in on his idea to prank Derek when they’re on their break, sitting on one of the benches at the pool area.

“Dude I know you love him or whatever and this is your weird way of flirting but he was just kidding around this morning, no need to start all-out war,” Scott says in between bites of his sandwich.

Stiles smacks his arm, making an offended noise, “Shut up, that’s not why I want to do this.”

“Sure,” Scott agrees indulgently.

“I’m serious!” Stiles swears, god Scott knows him too well. Wait, no. He  _thinks_  he knows him too well.

“I know! I-“ Scott cuts off completely, his mouth – half-full of sandwich – dropping open.

“Scotty?” Stiles asks confusedly. He follows Scott’s eye line and sees a pretty, brunette girl by the pool with a bunch of kids. She’s laughing with them as she tries to organise them into some kind of orderly fashion. Stiles’ mind flashes back to yesterday and remembers Erica and Isaac telling them the girl who worked at the kids club was called Allison.

He looks back to Scott, sees him still staring hopelessly and grins to himself. Oh god, Scotty’s done for.

“So Scott about pranking Derek,” Stiles asks conversationally. “You gonna help me?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Scott replies distractedly. He hasn’t blinked in like two whole minutes.

“Dude, just go talk to her,” Stiles suggests, rolling his eyes.

Finally Scott tears his gaze away from her to give Stiles a wide-eyed stare like he’d just suggested ritual sacrifice. “I  _can’t_ ,” he insists, voice pained.

“Why?”

“I- She’s working,” he answers lamely, making Stiles roll his eyes all over again. Pathetic.

“Yeah,  _that’s_ the reason,” Stiles snorts derisively. “Anyway, come on. You said you’d help me, we need to strategize.”

Scott hangs his head like he’s one hundred percent done with Stiles but nods. “Fine, lay it on me. What d’you have in mind?”

Stiles grins – Scott puts the “best” in “best friend” sometimes. (Okay, all the time.)

*

Stiles starts off small with Derek because the most clichéd pranks always get overlooked – hence why they’re the most effective. It’s not difficult really for him to swing by the poolside bar when he’s coming back from taking a guest’s luggage to their room and ask for some salt.

“Why do you need salt?” Isaac asks in confusion, handing over a shaker nonetheless.

“It’s to match Derek’s salty personality,” Stiles tells him with a winning smile.

He hears Erica bark a laugh from the other end of the bar as she finishes serving a customer and then she saunters over to them. “Oh I  _know_  you’re not gonna put that in Derek’s drink.”

“And how do you know that?” he asks charmingly.

“Because he’ll murder you,” Isaac says flatly. “Like straight up  _murder.”_

“It’s just a harmless practical joke,” Stiles continues mildly, blinking innocently.

“Remember that thing I said yesterday about Derek being a grumpy old man?” Erica asks. “That applies here. He hates pranks.”

“He didn’t seem to mind it earlier when he was sending me a wake-up call at ass o’clock in the morning,” Stiles grumbles.

Isaac and Erica share a look and both return their gaze to him with twin smirks. “Is that so?” Erica asks interestedly.

Stiles squints at them, taking a step back. “You both just got really creepy, I’m leaving now.”

“Have fun with Derek!” Erica calls behind him.

Oh, he will.

*

“Man, it’s pretty hot in here,” Stiles mentions casually when he’s back in the lobby.

Derek shrugs, “The air-con is on; you get used to the heat.”

“I’m gonna get some water, you want some?” Stiles offers.

Derek only shrugs again, focusing on something on the computer. Stiles takes that as an affirmative and heads over to the water dispenser in the corner behind the counter. He grabs two plastic cups, filling them up before slipping the salt shaker out of his pocket and tipping some into one of the cups. He quickly glances over his shoulder, checking that Derek’s still not paying him any attention and stashes it back in his pocket.

He strolls back over to where Derek’s sitting and sets the cup down next to him. “Your water,” Stiles presents with a flourish.

Derek hums his thanks, picking the cup up without even sparing it a glance – rookie mistake – and bringing it to his lips. He takes a sip and Stiles is about to bounce out of his skin with anticipation. Derek frowns, his face pinching up in confusion before making a choking noise and hurriedly spitting the water back into the cup.

He whirls around on the chair and stands up. “What the hell, Stiles?” he demands.

“I warned you,” Stiles says in a singsong voice.

Derek looks like he wants to throttle him, his hands balling up into fists. He makes a frustrated noise and narrows his eyes at Stiles. “Don’t think for one second this is over.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Stiles tells him cattily.

It’s only just beginning.

*

Derek glares daggers at him for the rest of the day and Stiles preens under the attention which just seems to frustrate Derek more. When Stiles and Scott are clocking out at six Stiles gives him a hearty, “See you tomorrow, Derek!”

To which Derek’s only reply is a withering look. It makes Stiles’ stomach flip anyway. God how the hell did he get under Stiles’ skin so quickly? It’s only been one full day.

“Wanna get changed and grab dinner at the restaurant?” Scott suggests when they’re riding the elevator up to their room. “Check out the cuisine?” he adds, waggling his eyebrows and looking far more innocent and adorable rather than suggestive.

“Scope out the restaurant to see if you spot Allison, you mean?” Stiles scoffs. As if he’s any better, pulling Derek’s pigtails.

“Isaac told me she rooms with Lydia,” Scott says unabashedly. “I just thought she might visit her at work.”

“Mhm,” Stiles hums dubiously. “And why can’t you just go talk to her?”

“Like you have any room to talk,” Scott laughs. “I heard about your prank. Derek’s pissed, dude. I don’t think he got the flirty intent underneath it.”

“This is just how we work,” Stiles says blithely.

“You didn’t even know Derek existed yesterday morning,” Scott reminds him.

“And you didn’t know what Allison looked like until five hours ago,” Stiles shoots back.

“Fine,” Scott accepts. “We’re both hopeless and pathetic, can we go get dinner?”

Stiles huffs a laugh but nods, “Sure.”

*

The restaurant is fancy as hell. One of the walls is made completely of windows that look out onto the terrace and the place is arranged to look busy but not cluttered. There’s a kitchen in the centre that looks to be mostly for display so the chefs can show off their tricks but he knows there’s another kitchen in the back from picking up room service today. The kitchen in the middle of the room is boxed in with steel countertops that Stiles guesses open up for the breakfast buffet – he and Scott hadn’t been functional enough this morning to go down and try it.

As soon as they’re through the door a petite redhead strides confidently up to them, wearing a dazzling smile. “Table for two?” she asks smoothly.

Stiles is vaguely awed by her. She exudes this air of control and power, holding herself with a sort of “I’m better than you” grace that doesn’t seem overly snobbish. He might be in love. In like, a platonic, “let me worship the ground you walk on” kind of way.

“Yes, please,” Scott answers for them and then she’s plucking two menus off the table next to the lectern by the door and leading them to a table by the window. Once they’re seated Lydia hands them each a menu with a flourish.

“Your waiter will be over soon, if there’s any problem don’t hesitate to call me.” Her smile is like steel, suggesting that  _should_  someone cause a problem she’ll eviscerate them using only the heel of her black pumps. What’s with all the women working at this place being absolutely terrifying?

Stiles settles down and begins perusing the menu but he quickly discovers the table they’re at is actually a pretty good vantage point for keeping lookout so it’s not long before he spots some familiar faces.

“Check it out,” he whispers to Scott a few minutes later once they’ve placed they’re orders. He nods to a table across the room.

“Why are you whispering?” Scott asks, perplexed. “They’re across the room.” But he turns before Stiles can reply. Seated next to the kitchen in the middle of the room is Derek with Erica, Isaac and the lifeguard Erica said was her boyfriend; Boyd. Erica’s laughing, one hand settled on top of Boyd’s on the table. Isaac’s chuckling more sedately while Boyd shares an amused look with Derek. And god, Derek’s  _smile,_ Stiles’ brain is turning to mush at an alarming rate.

“Dude look!” Scott says loudly, snapping him out of his reverie.

He follows Scott’s gaze to the door, seeing Allison hugging Lydia and smiling brightly. Behind her is the other lifeguard – Jackson, Isaac had said – talking to who Stiles guesses is Danny since he’s dressed similarly to Lydia and leaning casually on the lectern. With them is another girl - she has black hair, a pretty face and an adorable smile, Stiles thinks it might be that girl Kira that Erica and Isaac mentioned yesterday.

Both Lydia and Danny escort the group over to a table right next to Derek and co. and there’s a chorus of hellos and waves as Erica and Boyd turn around in their seats to chat with the other group for a moment.

Scott and Stiles turn back to face each other and the look on both their faces pretty much says the same thing.  _We need to befriend those people._

Stiles tries to focus on his food, he really does – and even if he’s distracted he can still appreciate it’s deliciousness – but he can’t help stealing glances across the room every few minutes. Watching Derek eat, watching him talk like he’s not contemplating murdering anyone at the table, watching him  _laugh_. Stiles could fall in love with him purely for the way he looks when he laughs – it’s awful.

Scott’s not much better; he’d paused with his fork halfway to his mouth and stayed like that for at least thirty seconds when Allison threw her head back, laughing at something the girl Stiles is presuming is Kira said.

None of them have noticed Scott and Stiles yet, thankfully, but they’re almost caught in the act when Lydia arrives at their table in the middle of their meal. Both of them hurry to shove food in their mouths and she gives them an appraising look but then her cool smile returns. “Is everything okay for you two?”

Stiles’ mouth is too full to reply so he settles for a thumbs up but Scott wipes his mouth because he actually has manners – kind of – and says, “Everything’s great, thanks.”

Lydia’s smile transforms into one of satisfaction and she nods. “Good. I feel the window seats are often the best place to seat couples,” she says knowingly and wait did she just- “The view of the sunset is divine if you plan to stay after for drinks and dessert,” she continues, hinting heavily like any good businesswoman would but did she say- Does she think they’re a  _couple?_

“I’m sorry,” Stiles begins politely, swallowing a lump of food and ignoring the burn in his throat. “Do you think we’re- I mean, do you think this is…a date?”

Scott chokes on his coke, slamming the glass down the table and coughing until his eyes water.

Lydia looks between them, confused. ”I’m sorry- when you said table for two I assumed…”

“We’re bellboys!” Stiles practically screeches and then cringes because that was way too loud. He looks over and yep, Derek’s looking at them. Great.

“Sorry,” he continues weakly. He looks for Derek out of the corner of his eye and sees him hiding a smile by looking down at his food. Ugh. “I mean, we work for the hotel. Just started today actually. We’re best friends, we’re  _not_  dating.”

By the time he’s finished Lydia’s openly smirking at them. “My mistake,” she says, sounding completely unapologetic. “So you’re the two that were terrorising Derek today.”

“I accept no responsibility in that,” Scott says immediately, holding up his hands in surrender. “That was all Stiles.”

“ _Dude_ ,” Stiles hisses.

“If she’s friends with Allison I don’t want her telling her I’ve been harassing Derek,” Scott hisses back, seeming to forget Lydia can hear them. Stiles sees the exact moment he remembers because his face falls.

He looks up hesitantly at Lydia and she’s full on beaming at this point. “I think it’s time you introduced yourselves to me properly,” she suggests, though it’s really not a suggestion.

“I’m Stiles,” he says before dropping his face into his hand.

“Scott,” Scott adds timidly.

“I’m Lydia,” she says in return. “But I’m figuring you already knew that from Erica and Isaac since they mentioned you too.”

They both nod wordlessly and her lips quirk amusedly. Stiles is waiting for the blow, for the embarrassing, awkward moment that’s bound to ensue but Lydia just puts on her people greeting smile again and says, “Are you almost done with your meals? How about I bring you the dessert menu?”

Stiles raises his eyebrows and then looks down at his mostly empty plate – he must’ve been stress eating through the entire encounter. “That sounds…great?”

Lydia nods in approval and sashays away from the table. She doesn’t head for the menus though; instead she goes straight across the room – to Allison specifically. She bends down so she’s on level with the other girl and whispers something in her ear. A moment later Allison looks up and over to Scott and Stiles’ table. She smiles shyly, ducking her head to hide the colour on her cheeks. Scott can only gape but Stiles offers a weak wave. She looks like she laughs but he can’t hear over the noise of the room and she turns away a second later to whisper with Lydia.

Stiles and Scott slowly turn back to face each other, Stiles feels something like relief when he sees Scott’s mirroring his look of mild horror.

“What just happened?” Scott says numbly.

“I don’t know, but I never want to take part in any social interactions ever again,” Stiles decides, slouching down and banging his forehead off his forearms resting on the table in front of him.

“ _You?”_  Scott says incredulously. “I just admitted how badly I wanna meet Allison in front of her friend and then said friend went over to tell her.”

“It’s not so bad,” Stiles says, pushing himself to sit up again. “Maybe she was just recommending a meal to her, y’know that pasta thing you’re eating or whatever.”

Scott stares at him in complete disbelief until Stiles huffs. “Fine she probably told her. But maybe that’s a good thing! Maybe Allison thinks you’re cute and wants to meet you.”

“Maybe,” Scott mumbles.

“If I buy you chocolate cake, will you stop giving me sad puppy eyes?” Stiles sighs.

Scott perks up, nodding his head and fighting back a grin. “Thank you, dear,” he tries to say adoringly before breaking down into a fit of giggles – that’s right, Scott _giggles_.

“I can’t believe Lydia thought we were dating,” Stiles grouses, rolling his eyes.

“It was kinda funny,” Scott disagrees. “You know I’d treat you good,” he adds, erupting into another burst of laughter.

“Yeah okay, now I need _you_  to buy _me_  chocolate cake because you’ve just put the most scarring images in my head.” Stiles’ faces pinches up, grossed out, and then Scott gets an affronted look.

“What, am I not good enough for you?” he demands.

“ _Scott_.” Stiles is gonna kill him. This is just proof they spend too much time together. Scott used be so sweet and innocent until Stiles corrupted him and taught him how to use sarcasm.

“Okay I’m done,” Scott says with a grin before finishing off the rest of his meal. He flags down a waiter –  _not_  Lydia, thank god – and orders their cake.

It makes the situation marginally better.

*

They’re leaving the restaurant about half an hour later when someone calls out to them. They pause at the door, turning around to see Allison standing before them. Stiles looks off to the side quickly and sees both tables containing their potential new friends watching them with unabashed interest.

Scott’s staring at her in astonishment and Allison’s twisting the hem of her dress in her hand nervously. “Hi, uh Scott and Stiles, right?”

Scott nods dumbly and Stiles kind of wants to save him, maybe pick up his jaw off the floor, but he also wants to let Scotty have his moment.

Allison’s smile brightens and she seems to relax a bit. “I just wanted to introduce myself, a few of the others told me about you. I’m Allison.”

“I know,” Scott says and Stiles just about resists face-palming. Oh boy. “I mean-“ Scott continues quickly. “Just- uh, Erica and Isaac- they mentioned you too.”

“Oh.” There’s colour rising on Allison’s cheeks and she looks back to the tables tucked away next to the kitchen before turning back to them. “Well, I just wanted to say welcome to the resort. I’m sure I’ll see you at the pool soon.”

Scott nods like a bobble head in his haste to agree. “Yes! ...I mean- yeah, we still need to check that out so I’ll– I mean, we’ll see you there.”

“Okay,” Allison agrees, dimpling at them. Oh god she’s just as cute as Scott, Stiles doesn’t know if he’ll actually be able to bear witness to these two spending time together.

“Okay,” Scott says dazedly as she gives them one last smile and returns to her table.

Scott just stands there after she leaves so Stiles rolls his eyes, throws an arm over his shoulder and drags him out the door. “What was that I said about Allison wanting to meet you?” Stiles says cockily.

Scott seems to come back to himself and pokes him in the side. “Shut up.”

“Scotty, I told you, I’m always right. You should always listen to me; it’ll make your life better,” he continues knowingly.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re a genius, you’re my life coach, you’re my Yoda et cetera,” Scott replies exasperatedly but he’s grinning.

“I’m totally your Yoda,” Stiles tells him.

*

Day two doesn’t come with a wake-up call from Derek but they still have to get up two hours earlier anyway to take the earlier shift. The only upside is that they get to finish at two which means they can actually pretend they’re guests for the afternoon.

Derek isn’t acting all cheerful when they come downstairs today. He just gives them a cursory nod as he deals with checking a family in. As Stiles and Scott slip in behind the counter to clock in Stiles notes the tense line of Derek’s shoulders and checks into the conversation he’s having.

Apparently the father of the family is insisting they booked a double room while Derek is very patiently trying to explain that they booked an adjoining room. Stiles watches for a few moments while Scott goes to one of the computers to check if there’s any jobs they have to do yet.

“Sir, I’m telling you, you must have-“ Derek tries to explain.

“I didn’t book an adjoining room!” the man protests. “It’s too expensive! And my kids are too young to have a room to themselves.”

Derek looks like he wants to wring the guy’s neck. Time for the Stilinski charm to shine. Stiles slides in next to Derek and offers the man a sympathetic smile.

“Listen, Mister…”

“Peters,” the man fills in.

“Mr. Peters,” Stiles says kindly. “I totally understand your dilemma, let me guess you booked online, right?”

“Yes,” he responds uncertainly.

“Right,” Stiles nods. “So on the website adjoining rooms are also referred to as twin rooms as in two bedrooms that have a door that joins them. But I’m betting you wanted a double room – one with two beds, am I right?”

“Yes,” the man repeats.

“Honest mistake,” Stiles tells him. “So, here’s what we’ll do, I’m gonna check the database and see if we have any double rooms available, if we do we’ll switch you no problem. If not, I’m afraid you’ll have to keep the room you booked, sound fair?”

He can feel Derek’s eyes boring holes in the side of his head but he ignores it as the man nods hesitantly. Stiles leans down to get at the computer and Derek moves over begrudgingly. He checks quickly and sees they still have a few double rooms available for the week so he looks up and smiles, “There’s one available. I’ll let Derek take it from here. Why don’t Scott and I go bring your bags up for you?”

The wife agrees quickly before her husband can say anything and Stiles nods to Scott who’s just finishing up on the other computer. They slip out from behind the counter and go to grab a luggage cart and Stiles very pointedly doesn’t look Derek’s way. He can already guess the expression on his face – some combination of murderous and outraged probably.

They load all the bags onto the cart and head straight for the elevator, waiting outside the bedroom door until the family catches up with them – Stiles had forgotten to grab the key-card in his haste to get out of the lobby.

“What’s wrong?” Scott asks, eyeing the way Stiles is fidgeting nervously from where he’s lounging against the luggage cart.

“Do you think Derek’s mad? I think Derek’s mad,” he says frantically, chewing on his lip as he paces back and forth.

“Why would he be mad? You calmed that guest down super well,” Scott says encouragingly.

“Yeah but that’s supposed to be Derek’s job and he seems like the kinda guy who’d be pretty uptight about someone else showing him up and making him look like he can’t do his job properly,” Stiles counters anxiously.

“You helped him out,” Scott says soothingly. “I’m sure everything’s fine.”

Stiles nods unsurely but then the family spill out of the elevator and are making their way down the hall so he pastes on a smile.

Once they get out of the elevator and see the lobby’s empty Scott taps his shoulder, “Wanna do it?” he asks when Stiles looks back at him.

“Do it” meaning ride the luggage cart - something they’ve been desperate to do since they found out they were gonna be bellboys.

“Hell yeah,” Stiles exclaims, hopping onto the cart, hand wrapped around the pole to steady him while Scott pushes for a few seconds to gain momentum and jumps up behind him.

It’s awesome. They’re so doing this when they work the night shifts and no one’s around. When Stiles looks up Derek’s glaring at them. The cart – and his enthusiasm - begins to slow the closer they get to the front desk.

“Get off that,” Derek grunts, scowling at Stiles specifically.

Stiles jumps down, pulling back on the poll to stop it. Scott gets an expression like a kicked puppy as he hops down and starts towing it back to the corner.

“We were just messin’ around,” Stiles says lightly.

Derek’s scowl deepens. “What you did earlier with those guests, don’t do it again.” And there it is, the ground can swallow Stiles up now.

“I was just trying to help,” Stiles retorts defensively. He feels angry in spite of himself and how he was worrying not three minutes ago about Derek’s reaction.

“You made me look incompetent,” Derek argues.

“I didn’t mean to-“

“Well you did!” Derek snaps.

And yeah, wow, Stiles is not putting up with that just because Derek’s not a morning person – or an afternoon person either to be honest. “Alright look,” he starts off sharply, softening his voice when Derek gives him a warning look. “It’s just- he was stressing you out, I could tell. I was just trying to fix it,” he mutters weakly.

Derek looks at him for a moment, gaze piercing, and sighs like it’s against his better judgement to say whatever he’s about to say, “I know and you did. But I’m used to this, Stiles. I can keep my cool with annoying guests. You don’t need to swoop in and save the day. It’s not your job, it’s mine.”

“Fine,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. He just wants this conversation to end.

“Why don’t you and Scott go check to make sure all the sunbeds are back in the right places before guests start going out to the pool?” Derek suggests. It’s his peace offering and Stiles is gonna take it. How could he  _already_  fuck up after two days?

Stiles nods and tries to smile at him. Scott, upon hearing his name, returns from spending a suspiciously long time putting away the luggage cart and they make their way outside.

“So are you in trouble?” Scott asks once they’re a safe distance away from the front desk.

“I don’t think so?” Stiles replies doubtfully.

“That’s good, right?” Scott tries to clarify.

“Yeah, I guess. I just didn’t mean to piss Derek off.”

“You’re overthinking it, dude,” Scott tells him, clapping him on the shoulder before holding the door open for him.

“Probably,” Stiles agrees and starts to get to work. He’ll fix it later.

*

It’s a little later in the day, only an hour until he can clock off for the day and he’s sitting at the front desk with Derek. Scott’s off bringing room service to one of the rooms on the top floor and the lobby is dead.

Stiles is idly spinning on his chair while Derek looks at something on the computer. Stiles is almost on a full rotation when Derek speaks up.

“So when are you gonna strike with your next prank?” he asks conversationally.

Stiles spins the chair quickly to look at him - Derek’s eyes are still on the computer but there’s a smirk on his face that he looks like trying to hide.

Stiles has been kind of standoffish with Derek since the incident this morning so he’s endlessly thankful that Derek’s trying to lighten the mood between them – endlessly thankful and kind of surprised to be honest.

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles snorts. “I have to wait for you to prank me back first. That’s just pranking etiquette.”

Derek scoffs and almost laughs – it makes his eyes light up and Stiles is having heart palpitations “How kind of you,” he mutters amusedly.

“And besides you don’t just  _ask_  someone when they’re going to prank you,” he continues. “That defeats the purpose.”

“So I have to prank you? In fact, you _want_  me to prank you, and not tell you when because you won’t prank me again otherwise?” Derek clarifies.

“Hey I didn’t make up the rules,” Stiles shrugs.

“It kinda sounds like you did,” Derek retorts and Stiles throws the paper airplane he’d made earlier at his head.

“So what if I never prank you?” Derek asks then. “Does that mean you’re never gonna prank me again?”

“Well, I’ve gotta find _some_  way to pass the time,” Stiles replies with a grin.

“How about you pass it by doing your job?” Derek suggests.

“Like you’re even doing anything right now!” Stiles argues.

“No one’s here,” Derek shrugs.

“My point exactly,” he says triumphantly. His point is pretty short lived though, because an alert goes off on the computer ten seconds later and Derek starts grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

“Room service, room 427,” he says casually.

Stiles glowers at him before sighing long-sufferingly and heaving himself off his chair.

“In the meantime,” Derek calls. “I can think of all the pranking opportunities that could present themselves to me.”

“I thought you didn’t want to encourage me?” Stiles counters as he pauses on his walk away from the front desk.

“Maybe I need a way to pass the time too,” Derek answers.

Stiles doesn’t turn back around so Derek can’t see the ginormous grin he’s sporting as he walks away but he thinks Derek might know it’s there anyway.

*

Scott and Stiles stroll down to the pool after scarfing down a quick lunch, changing into swim trunks and slapping on some sunscreen. They find two empty loungers underneath an umbrella and dump their towels.

“I have been  _itching_  to test out the pool since we got here,” Stiles says, impatiently watching Scott put a bottle of sunscreen on top of his towel so it won’t blow off the chair while they’re swimming.

Scott shoots him a glance, purposely moving slower just to piss him off.

 _“Scottttttt,”_  Stiles whines, grabbing on his arm and trying to pull him along.

Scott relents, laughing, “Okay, okay, let’s do this!”

They come to the edge of the pool and Stiles throws his friend a sideways look, “Cannonball?”

“Cannonball,” Scott agrees.

They back up a few steps preparing to run. “On three,” Stiles orders. “One…two... _three!”_

They take off in the world’s shortest sprint and Stiles propels himself forward, tucking his limbs and yelling in elation as he connects with the water and plunges under.

They both resurface only to hear a voice yelling, “No diving in the pool!” quickly followed by a scoff and another voice snarking, “Like that could even be considered a dive.”

Stiles looks over to the lifeguard station and sees Boyd looking at them in disapproval while Jackson just looks wholly unimpressed. Stiles swims over to the edge of the pool that’s closest to them, propping his forearms up on the edge as Scott arrives next to him a moment later.

“Sorry,” Scott says sincerely, like an earnest puppy. Stiles checks and yep- he’s got his puppy eyes going in full force.

“Yeah sorry,” Stiles adds. “First time and everything, got a little excited.”

“That’s what she said,” Jackson mutters as Boyd throws him the most long-suffering glance Stiles has ever seen. Stiles feels for him.

“I’m Stiles-“

“And I’m Scott,” Scott finishes for him, grinning up at the lifeguards.

“Figured it was about time we introduced ourselves,” Stiles adds.

“We know who you are,” Boyd says. “We’ve heard various commentaries about you two already. From Erica, from Isaac, from Derek, from  _Lydia_.”

Stiles cringes, remembering dinner last night. “All good things, I hope,” he replies sheepishly.

Boyd smirks like he knows exactly what Stiles is thinking about but he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead he says, “I’m Boyd but Erica probably already told you that.”

Scott and Stiles nod their confirmation.

“Then I bet she also told you this douchebag is Jackson?” he guesses with a jerk of a thumb in Jackson’s direction.

They nod again; Stiles biting his lip not to laugh in Jackson’s face. Jackson sits up straight from where he’d been lounging in his chair, lazily scanning the pool, and gives Boyd an affronted look.

“Fuck you,  _Vernon,”_  he retorts huffily. He’s got the “holier than thou” attitude down, from what Stiles can see.

Boyd looks like he can’t even muster up enough of a fuck to give to even deign that with a response – Stiles likes him already. But then his expression transforms into a kind of quiet contentment and that’s when Stiles hears her.

“You’re not harassing my boyfriend, are you boys?” Erica calls and Stiles spins around in the water to see her walking towards them with Isaac in tow. They come around the side of the pool and Erica grabs onto the side of Boyd’s chair, pulling herself up on her tippy-toes and pointing her face upwards, puckering her lips. Boyd obligingly leans down and pecks her lips and they both pull away with a besotted smile.

Erica turns back to Scott and Stiles then though, raising her eyebrows and waiting for the answer to her question.

“We would never!” Stiles insists dramatically. “Isn’t that right, Scott?” He nudges Scott’s side when he gets no response but all it takes is one look at his best friend to realise he’s otherwise engaged.

Allison’s just stepped out onto the pool area, slipping off her shorts to reveal the standard deep green bathing suit with the hotel’s logo, matching Boyd and Jackson’s uniforms. Stiles can see Scott’s brain cells depleting by the minute so he throws up his hands in defeat and turns back to Erica and the others.

“It was our first time in the pool,” he argues half-heartedly.

Erica nods condescendingly, grinning when Stiles scowls at her. “So anyway,” she says offhandedly. “Now that you’ve met all of our ragtag gang of overworked summer staff-“

“We still haven’t met Danny and Kira,” Scott interjects, apparently checking back into the conversation since Allison disappeared into the pool shed to get stuff ready for the volleyball game happening in the other pool in the next few minutes.

“We know you saw us at dinner,” Isaac tells him amusedly.

Stiles feels his face heat up but he figures he can play it off as sunburn.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Erica continues. “How about you guys join us for dinner tomorrow night since we all have the night off? We’re all meeting in Isaac and Boyd’s room and ordering room service while watching shitty vacation movies. It’s our tradition.”

“How many summers have you all worked here?” Stiles asks curiously.

“Well, the three of us and Derek started three summers ago,” Isaac answers. “Allison, Lydia, Danny and Jackson joined us the following summer and Kira came last year. Our group’s been expanding for a while – Derek and Boyd hate it,” he finishes with a grin.

Boyd sighs, “We don’t hate it, we just don’t like social situations.”

“And yet Derek’s a concierge,” Stiles muses.

“Nice coincidence, huh?” Erica laughs. “So? Are you guys gonna come or not?”

Stiles casts a look sideways to have a silent conversation with Scott and receives an encouraging nod. “We’ll be there,” Stiles replies with a smile, looking back to Erica.

“Be where?” and oh.  _Oh god_. Derek strides up to them, coming to rest next to Isaac. Derek strides up to them  _shirtless. In swim trunks_. Stiles isn’t one hundred percent certain he’s breathing right now.

Scott, being the best bro in the entire world, answers since he knows Stiles’ brain-to-mouth filter is most definitely not engaged right now. “We’re having dinner with you guys tomorrow night.”

Derek makes this face that pretty much says even though he’s only known Scott and Stiles a couple of days, he gets enough of them at work.

“Be nice,” Erica admonishes. “You do this every year when we make friends with someone new and then you end up adoring them once you begrudgingly accept their presence.”

“Except Jackson,” Derek points out.

“Hate you too!” Jackson says in a singsong voice.

“Fine whatever,” Erica dismisses. “Could we skip the grumpy “I hate change” part this year? I mean, look at them! They’re adorable.”

Erica and Derek turn to look at them and on cue, Scott throws an arm around Stiles pulling him in and smushing their cheeks together as they both smile innocently.

Derek raises his eyebrows and then snorts. “Whatever, I’m going for a swim and you two should be getting back to work,” he adds pointedly to Isaac and Erica.

“We were taking a break,” Isaac grumbles as Erica rolls her eyes, hopping up to plant a kiss on Boyd’s cheek.

“Room 222!” she calls to Scott and Stiles as she and Isaac begin to walk away. “Seven-thirty!”

“Got it!” Stiles calls just as Derek dives into the pool. Stiles whirls back to Boyd and Jackson, expecting them to reprimand him but neither of them say a word. “How come he gets to dive?” he demands indignantly.

“Because I actually like Derek,” Boyd answers coolly.

Stiles is about to retort when Derek resurfaces, his body glistening as he shakes water droplets from his face. Stiles is…Stiles will get right on that snappy come back when his brain reboots.

*

At 7:31 the following night, they’re shuffling down the hall to Isaac and Boyd’s room and Scott’s fretting beside him about whether or not his outfit is right.

Stiles tunes him out for the most part but gives him a comforting pat on the back while he knocks on the door. It mollifies Scott some.

Isaac answers with an easy smile, immediately swinging the door back fully so they can come in. “Glad you could make it,” he assures them, easing some of the nerves in Stiles’ stomach. There’s a reason he and Scott only have each other – well, primarily because that’s all either of them want, but also because they’re not the best at relationships that go beyond acquaintanceship.

The room is already full with everyone else. The four girls are sitting cross-legged in a circle on one of the double beds, chatting animatedly, while Jackson and Danny are sitting on the edge of the other bed, conversing about who knows what but Jackson looks mildly less prickly than he has every other time Stiles has seen him. Derek and Boyd are over by the balcony, leaning on the doorframe of the open sliding door, talking quietly but looking weirdly at ease – in the short time Stiles has known him, it’s the only time he’s seen Derek without that irritable air around him.

Upon noticing their new arrivals Erica hauls herself off the bed, pulling Kira along by the hand. “Danny get over here,” she orders as she drags Kira over to Scott and Stiles. Danny gets a bemused sort of look on his face but excuses himself from his conversation with Jackson and strolls over to Scott and Stiles.

“Scott, Stiles,” Erica says. “This is Kira and Danny. Kira and Danny, this is Scott and Stiles.”

Kira gives them an excited “hello” and pulls them straight in for hugs, not even bothering with a handshake. Stiles warms to her instantly. Danny shakes their hands with this faint air of amusement, the kind of amusement that probably allows him to spend extended periods of time with Jackson.

“Okay everyone’s here can we order food now?” Isaac begs the rooms at large, flopping down onto the bed beside Jackson, making the mattress bounce and causing Jackson to give him a disdainful look.

“Yes, we can order,” Danny says in an affectionate tone Stiles doesn’t expect but then he sees the heart eyes Danny’s throwing Isaac’s way and it starts to make a bit more sense. “Everyone want their usuals?”

There’s a chorus of yeahs and yesses and Danny turns to Scott and Stiles, phone poised to his ear, fingers hovering over the number. “What about you two?”

They both stick with a burger and fries but it’s probably one of those fancy gourmet burgers so Stiles figures they don’t seem that much like lowly peasants.

Allison sidles up to them as soon as they’re finished answering Danny and Scott’s awareness of anyone but her is gone in an instant. She leads him over to the small couch, asking him how his day was and Scott almost trips over his own feet in his haste to follow her.

Stiles shakes his head with an exasperated smile, he’s gonna let Scotty do his thing tonight and keep his distance. Stiles lets his gaze travel around the room, deciding who to talk to. Danny’s still on the phone, the rest of the girls are still on one of the beds and Jackson’s watching Lydia with something that almost looks likes yearning –  _interesting_. Isaac’s lying upside down on the bed, talking to Boyd now and Derek- Derek’s looking at  _Stiles_.

Well Stiles needs no further prompting. He grins and Derek sighs, put-upon, as he comes bounding over to him. “Hi!”

“Hi,” Derek replies as if it pains him to talk to Stiles.

“How was your afternoon?” Stiles asks, using his encouraging voice so Derek knows they’re gonna keep having a conversation whether he likes it or not.

“Fine,” Derek answers with a sigh.

Stiles waits for more but nothing comes. “This is the part where you’re supposed to say “how was  _your_  afternoon, Stiles?””

Derek sighs again – he does that a  _lot_ , Stiles has learned – and puts on his concierge smile. “How was your afternoon, Stiles?”

“You’re really shit at pretending to be interested, you know?” he says conversationally.

Derek laughs – score one for Stiles! – and then looks like he immediately regrets it. But Stiles can see his smile; he’s not very good at hiding them. “Maybe I don’t like small talk.”

“What do you like then?” Stiles asks lowly and  _whoa_ this just got really intense really quickly.

Derek stares at him and Stiles legitimately can’t look away even though he’s really, really trying but then Derek’s eyes flit down to his lips and his brain sort of implodes.

Holy shit did that just happen? That is a thing that just happened. Derek looked at Stiles’ mouth after Stiles asked him what he liked. Stiles needs to imprint this moment in his brain for the rest of his life.

Just as quickly as it happens Derek seems to come back to himself and he looks away. “Lots of things,” he answers, clearing his throat.

“Well, like what?” Stiles presses.

“I don’t know, things!” Derek splutters, looking away like he’s feeling awkward.

“Enlightening,” Stiles hums teasingly.

“Shut up,” Derek huffs, jostling him a bit. He almost seems bashful. Oh man, this is already the best night of Stiles’ life, bar  _none_.

“How about we do this thing where we pretend I don’t know anything about you and you tell me about yourself?” Stiles suggests.

“You  _don’t_  know anything about me,” Derek points out.

“Which is why you should tell me!” he insists.

Derek does that huffy laugh again and says, “What if I don’t want you to know anything about me?”

“Why wouldn’t you? I’m a delightful person to befriend, Derek,” Stiles responds smoothly.

“You’re something, alright,” Derek mutters, shaking his head.

“Something  _wonderful_ ,” he corrects with a haughty grin.

Derek eyes him speculatively, one corner of his mouth tugging up, “We’ll see,” he allows. Derek pushes himself off the wall he’s been leaning against then and begins to meander over to the couch. All Stiles can do is follow him blindly because -  _were they just flirting?_

*

As soon as the food arrives they all pile onto the couch and the floor around it that’s already littered with pillows and blankets. Food and drinks are passed around as Boyd fixes the DVD player and sets up The Even Stevens Movie. Stiles is squished in between Scott and Derek with a burger the size of his face but all he can think about is the way he and Derek are touching from shoulder to knee.

Stiles quickly learns they’re talkers through movies – probably because they’ve all seen them a thousand times.

“Could you imagine if we all worked at a summer camp?” Kira wonders aloud when they’re watching The Parent Trap (Scott had grinned excitedly at Stiles when it started.)

“There is no way I’d spend my summer dealing with bratty kids,” Lydia says decisively.

“So you’d rather spend it with bratty adults?” Danny snorts.

“You do realise I spend my summer taking care of kids anyway, right?” Allison adds but she looks pretty happy about her job.

“At least kids don’t call down to reception in the middle of the night demanding extra pillows,” Derek grumbles.

“Nah they just spend the summer pranking each other and causing hell for the camp councillors,” Isaac retorts.

“You’re right, that  _would_  be annoying,” Derek agrees, looking significantly at Stiles but Stiles only smiles back innocently.

“You started it,” Stiles mumbles, fighting to keep the grin off his face.

“Right, it’s my fault,” Derek scoffs.

“It’s nice that you can admit it,” Stiles replies cattily, holding a hand up when Derek tries to respond. “Derek please. You’re interrupting the movie,” he reprimands, facing forward again and biting the inside of his cheek because he wants to smile so bad, it  _hurts_.

Derek huffs – that’s totally Stiles’ new favourite sound – and starts grumbling under his breath but he more or less stays quiet.

It’s not until a few moments later that Stiles realises everyone is looking at them. He looks around the room and raises his eyebrows. “What?”

No one answers him but the smirks on Erica and Isaac’s faces say enough.

*

The next few weeks pass by fairly uneventfully; the settle into their jobs easily and Stiles spends far more time trying to talk to Derek than actually looking for guests in need of assistance – he’s successful like, eighty percent of the time. But Derek seems to be warming up to him  _just a tad_. He pranks him back – he switches out Stiles’ carb and meat-filled room service order that he’d been waxing poetic about all day for a  _salad_. Stiles retaliates by calling down to reception one night and sending fifteen pillows to Derek’s room at three o’clock in the morning.

Derek forgoes all finesse and just straight up pushes him into the pool when the group of them are hanging out there on one of their days off. Stiles pseudo-stalks Derek until he sees him bringing his laundry down to the basement and slips a red sock into his white wash.

Scott and Allison are tip-toeing around each other adorably and Stiles knows it’s only a matter of time before they’re riding off into the sunset. Erica likes to tease Stiles mercilessly and Lydia takes over when she’s busy – though Lydia seems to appreciate the way Stiles keeps up with her. Isaac takes a shine to Scott and basically follows him around like a little puppy – a snarky little puppy whose every other sentence is inappropriate but a puppy nonetheless. Jackson can’t stand Scott and Stiles but it totally goes both ways, besides, Kira thinks they’re adorable.

Stiles learns a lot of the in-group gossip too. Like how Jackson has been badgering Danny for the past two years to put in a good word with Lydia for him. And how Lydia knows all about it and waits amusedly for Jackson to grow some balls and tell her how he feels himself. Or how Danny and Isaac have been crushing on each other since pretty much the moment they met but are both too afraid to say anything. There’s also rumours apparently that both Boyd and Erica are planning on proposing to each other, unbeknownst to the other person – Stiles  _really_  wants to be there when that happens.

After just over three weeks of working at the resort Scott and Stiles are basically wholeheartedly accepted into the group and it’s awesome. It feels like he’s known them all for years instead of weeks.

It’s the last couple of days before high season sets in and the place is about to get really chaotic when it happens.

Scott’s out helping Allison move the stuff from the pool shed that she needs for the kids club – Stiles is pretty sure that’s not actually in his job description but hey, whatever it takes to get his boy in the good books - and Derek is at the front desk, looking at something on the computer with fierce concentration. Stiles is just back from bringing some guests’ luggage to their room.

“Stiles, another alert came in while you were upstairs,” Derek murmurs distractedly, nodding to the other computer.

“Got it, boss!” Stiles loves calling Derek “boss”, mostly because Derek hates it but whatever.

Stiles hops up on the counter, lifting his legs and spinning around to drop down on the other side. Derek affords him an irritated glare but goes back to looking at the computer a second later.

Stiles gives him a shit-eating grin before checking the alert. “There’s someone in the penthouse?” Stiles reads in surprise.

“Yes, so it might be an idea to not keep them waiting given how much they’re paying us,” Derek advises sardonically.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going,” Stiles sighs, waving a hand.

Taking the elevator up to the penthouse is  _intimidating_. Stiles has never been up there but he knows the type that stay there – the filthy rich type. He knocks on the door with some trepidation and feels his jaw hit the floor when a stunning brunette answers.

“You’re the bellboy?” she asks, eyeing him speculatively.

Stiles feels himself nod and she opens the door fully to let him through.

“What can I do for you, Miss…?”

“It’s Laura,” she says dismissively.

“Oh. Well how can I help?” Stiles offers.

“I don’t really like the arrangement of this room,” she sighs.

“I’m sorry?” he asks confusedly.

“I need you to move the furniture for me,” she requests.

“Move the- uh I’m not really sure I’m allowed do that,” he replies uncertainly.

“Well,  _I’m_  pretty sure I’m paying your salary so maybe you should do what I say,” Laura retorts imperiously.

“O-kaaay,” Stiles says, raising an eyebrow.  _The customer is always right_ , he chants in his head. “Uh, what do you want me to move?”

“Oh just a few things,” Laura replies airily.

It is  _not_  just a few things. She has him move the couch to six different positions as well as the coffee table. She has him rearrange the paintings on the walls and reorder the place settings on the table. She tries to make him move the _bed_ but after ten minutes of failed attempts and a serious bruise to Stiles’ ego she sends him off to get more towels for the bathroom and three extra pillows.

After spending an hour as a glorified pack mule she finally lets him leave and Stiles races down to the lobby in desperation.

“You’ve been gone a while,” Derek observes lightly when he drops his elbows on the front desk with a huff, propping himself up on his forearms.

“That woman is the  _devil_ ,” Stiles hisses.

“Who, Laura?” Derek asks innocently, his lips twitching like he wants to smile but he’s trying not to.

“ _Yes_ , do know how many times she made me-“

“Saying bad things about me, Stiles?” a voice says from behind him and Stiles feels all the blood drain from his face. He whirls around and sees Laura standing there unassumingly.

“ _No!”_  he exclaims. “I was-“

Suddenly Laura’s blank expression transforms into a massive smile and she starts laughing. “Oh I can’t do it to him anymore, Der. Look at his  _face.”_

Der? What is she-  _No_.

Stiles spins on his heel again, pointing an accusatory finger at Derek. “ _You!”_

Derek grins and Stiles allows himself one brief second to revel in it before his outrage returns anew. “Stiles, this is my sister, Laura.”

“Nice to meet you!” Laura pipes up from behind him.

“What was- why did-  _why?”_  Stiles demands dramatically.

“You said it was my turn to prank you back,” Derek shrugs, smirking proudly to himself.

“That wasn’t pranking! That was child labour!” Stiles screeches.

“You’re twenty-one, Stiles,” Derek replies amusedly.

Stiles carries on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Pranking is like, covering my entire hotel room floor in full cups of water so I can’t walk anywhere without spilling them or-“

“But then Scott would suffer too and I actually like Scott,” Derek counters mildly.

“You’re such a-“

“Careful,” Derek warns, holding a hand up to stop him. “We’re in a lobby full of guests.”

Stiles makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and mimics choking Derek with his hands. “I’m gonna get you back so hard for this.”

“We’ll see,” Derek responds with a smug grin.

“Wow if I’d have known I was being used to fuel your sexual tension–filled pigtail pulling I would’ve just said no,” Laura comments. She winks when Stiles turns back to her and he does  _not_  blush.

“How did you even get her into the penthouse in the first place?” Stiles grumbles.

“Our uncle owns this hotel,” Laura says like it’s obvious.

“You never said that!” Stiles accuses Derek.

“You never asked,” Derek shrugs.

“I’m pretty sure I ask you about yourself every day and all you ever say is, “shut up, Stiles”.”

Laura starts cackling then, “Oh yeah, that sounds like Derek.”

“You can leave now,” Derek tells her with all the petulance of a younger brother and oh my god this is a side to Derek Stiles didn’t even realise he’s been missing out on.

“Fine, I’ll leave you to your flirting,” Laura smirks. “But don’t forget. Dinner with me and Cora tonight or she’ll punch you.”

“I won’t forget,” Derek rolls his eyes.

“Fine.” She turns to Stiles then and pinches his cheek. “Sorry I bossed you around like that earlier, it’s just so rare that my brother enlists me in his schemes. I’m usually the one scheming and he’s usually the victim-“

_“Laura.”_

“I’m going, I’m going,” she huffs, holding her hands up in surrender. “Seriously though,” she whispers to Stiles. “If you want to get him back, I’m actually staying in room 501. I’ll be here for another few weeks.” With that, she gives Stiles another wink and strides off.

“Ignore her,” Derek mutters.

“Which part?” Stiles asks dazedly, turning back to Derek.

“All of it.”

“Even the part where she said she’d help me prank you back?” Stiles challenges, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Especially that,” Derek scowls.

“You shouldn’t have gotten her involved then!” Stiles singsongs.

Derek kind of looks like he wants to wring Stiles’ neck, it’s hilarious honestly. “Get back to work,” he orders.

“Hey, you were the one sending me on a bogus job-“

“ _Stiles!”_

“Alright I’m going.”

*

That evening, while Stiles is on his break, he dutifully goes to visit Lydia before the restaurant opens for dinner on official best friend business.

“Stiles,” Lydia greets smoothly. “What can I do for you?”

“As the official best friend of Scott McCall,” he begins, putting on a commanding voice. “I am here to ask you; the official best friend of Allison Argent, if she likes him. I have a card where you can circle yes or no if you want?” he finishes with a grin.

Lydia affords him a begrudging chuckle and rolls her eyes. “A blind man could see that those two are gone on each other.”

“Yeah but Scott doesn’t believe me. He wants confirmation.”

Lydia sighs, setting down the book of reservations she’d been sorting through. “If I say yes will he actually ask her out so they can stop sending each other longing gazes from across the room?”

“Probably,” Stiles hedges. “I mean it still might take him like two weeks. He’s not very skilled with the ladies,” he teases.

Lydia raises an eyebrow at him, her lips pursed in amusement before she huffs, throwing her hands up in defeat. “Fine. She likes him. A lot.”

Stiles beams at her, “Thank you! I gotta go tell Scott!”

“Stilinski!” she calls as he’s about to race out the door. “Make sure he actually does something about it, okay? My best friend doesn’t deserve to be kept waiting.”

Stiles smiles softly before giving her a salute, “You got it!”

Lydia rolls her eyes at him again and waves him away.

*

Stiles is finishing the rest of his break at the front desk with Derek – he’d barely gotten out the sentence “Allison likes you” before Scott had raced off to find her – futilely trying to engage him in a game of paper football.

“Throw a ball of paper at me  _one more time_ , Stiles,” Derek threatens. Except he doesn’t look all that menacing eating salad out of his lunch box.

“It’s a game, Derek,” he drawls, throwing another balled up piece of paper at him just because.

Derek spins his chair, pretending to leap out of it like he’s going to tackle Stiles, making Stiles jump about a foot in the air. Derek smirks smugly, nodding to himself as he settles down with his salad again.

“Don’t  _do_  that,” Stiles complains. “Do you see the size of your arms? You could flatten me in half a second.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t aggravate me then,” Derek suggests, sounding ridiculously pleased with himself.

Stiles is about to make a comeback when Scott comes racing into the lobby, catching himself on the counter of the front desk so he doesn’t faceplant the floor. “Stiles,” he pants.

“You need your inhaler, buddy?” Stiles asks, going for the drawer Finstock gave them behind the desk – they keep one there just in case.

“No,” Scott says breathlessly, waving a hand. “Allison she- she said  _yes_.”

“Allison said yes?” Stiles echoes, breaking out in a grin. At Scott’s nod of confirmation, Stiles claps his hands together. “That’s awesome, bro!”

Scott smiles half-heartedly, more focused on regulating his breathing.

“When’s the date?”

“Tomorrow,” Scott says, sounding back to normal before his eyes widen in a panicked expression. “Oh my god, what are we gonna do? What am I gonna wear? I can’t just take her to the hotel restaurant, that’d be-“

“Dude, breathe,” Stiles says soothingly, reaching over the counter and placing his hands on Scott’s shoulders. “We’ll figure it out. Derek can give us the lowdown on some of the good places to eat around here, right Derek?” Stiles adds pointedly. He and Scott haven’t left the resort much, there’s a town a few minutes away but other than going to the beach and visiting the mall a couple of times they haven’t really explored.

Derek glances up from his food with a look of long-suffering but obligingly nods his head. “Sure,” he sighs.

Scott sags in relief, slipping out of Stiles’ grip and coming around the side of the front desk. “Thanks man,” he says sincerely, dropping into the empty chair next to Stiles.

They both turn expectantly to Derek then, who gives Stiles a scowl that pretty much says, “Why the hell did you drag me into this?” but he puts his fork down and regards Scott seriously. “Allison will be happy no matter what you do because she likes you and she’ll be with  _you_.”

And wow, that’s…surprisingly sweet. Who knew Derek could be such a softie?

“But,” Derek continues. “There’s a restaurant in town that she loves. It’s a little hole-in-the-wall that she goes to every time we come down here for the summer. Take her there and you’ll definitely win her over,” he assures, smiling like he doesn’t even realise it.

Stiles, on the other hand, is internally hyperventilating because  _Derek is a closet romantic and this is the most important piece of information Stiles has ever learned ever._

Scott gives Derek a hundred watt smile, nodding earnestly as Derek tells him the name of the restaurant and starts outlining directions to the place. Stiles lets it all wash over him, watching the amused glint in Derek’s eyes as he advises an excited Scott.

Let’s just say if Stiles ever gets up the nerve, it might be Scott’s turn to go talk to Boyd on official best friend business.

*

The next night Stiles sends Scott off on his date with a comforting hug, an encouraging smile and a, “You’re gonna wow her, man!” Scott had given him a slightly woozy grin but had acted like a perfect gentleman when he met Allison outside their bedroom door, offering her his arm and complimenting her outfit. Stiles had given him a thumbs up when he threw a look over his shoulder just before they left.

And while Stiles is happy for them and firmly of the belief that it’s about damn time those two took the leap of faith and started dating, he’s also gonna be pretty bored tonight without Scott around.

He leans against the doorjamb and checks the time on his phone – he knows his dad is still at work so they can’t Skype. He scrolls through his contacts then, trying to remember of his new friends who’s working right now and who isn’t. Danny and Lydia don’t get off until eleven so they’re out, Jackson’s off but ew, no and he’s pretty sure Derek’s meeting with his sisters again tonight.

A group of people walking past catches his attention and he looks up to see Erica, Boyd, Isaac and Kira coming from one of the rooms.

“And what are you doing out here all on your lonesome?” Erica asks, stopping at Stiles’ door and forcing the rest of them to stop too.

“I was just sending Scott off on his date,” Stiles replies.

“Ah so the lovebirds have flown the nest,” Isaac comments drily, making Kira laugh.

“Yup and I’ve fulfilled my role as Scott’s surrogate mother for the night.”

Boyd snorts. “Well we’re meeting Derek and his sisters so grab your room key and come on.”

Not about to pass  _that_  offer up, Stiles darts back inside to grab his key card and slip on some shoes and meets the others outside his room.

*

Derek’s sisters are, well, terrifying. Stiles can’t believe he ever thought Derek was intimidating in comparison to those two. He already could tell Laura was a force to be reckoned with but combine her with Cora and Stiles is honestly afraid for his life.

The others look surprised when Stiles admits he’s already met Laura. He doesn’t even get the chance to offer an explanation before she jumps in to tell the story. Somehow Derek ends up being the one who looks embarrassed which is weird because Stiles is pretty sure he was the one who was pranked.

“Oh man, you don’t do things by halves, do you Der?” Cora laughs.

“Only when he really cares,” Erica chimes in.

Derek almost looks like he’s blushing and Stiles feels like they’re having an entirely different conversation to the one Stiles is clued into.

Boyd and Kira seem to be the only people besides Stiles not on board the “let’s tease Derek” train and it makes Derek seem far more put out rather than actually angry.

“So how are you planning on getting him back?” Kira asks Stiles, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“I couldn’t give away my trade secrets while the enemy’s within hearing distance,” he sniffs, snorting when Derek rolls his eyes.

“I already told him I’d help him,” Laura adds, only grinning when Derek so clearly kicks him under the table.

“We’re pranking Derek? Wait I want in,” Cora whines.

“ _No_ ,” Derek glares at her. “It’s bad enough he can’t let it go,” he says with a jerk of his head in Stiles’ direction.

“I still maintain you started it,” Stiles says lightly.

“Derek’s just mad because you’re inciting his competitive streak,” Boyd says, hiding his smirk behind his glass as he takes a drink.

“Oh yeah, word to the wise, Stiles,” Isaac stage-whispers. “Never play board games with Derek or Allison because they will destroy you.”

“We’re not that bad,” Derek grumbles.

“The scar Jackson has on his hand begs to differ,” Kira counters, laughing.

“Wait. You  _scarred_  Jackson? I have to hear this story.” He probably shouldn’t sound so delighted at the thought of someone causing Jackson bodily harm but eh, Scott’s the one with a moral compass, not him.

“It was his own fault,” Derek huffs.

“What did you do?”

“We were playing Monopoly-“ Kira begins.

“Wait, you hurt Jackson playing  _Monopoly?”_   Stiles laughs, making Derek huff again.

“And anyway, Jackson insisted people were stealing money from him and since Derek was the banker he tried to reach other and take some of the money back.”

“But of course, Derek wouldn’t let that happen,” Erica continues with an amused grin. “So he shoved Jackson back to his side of the board.”

“But Jackson overbalanced a bit and put his hand out to catch himself,” Isaac adds, looking gleeful about what he’s about to say – dude’s got a dark side. “But in all his shuffling around some of the plastic houses had fallen off the board and well, the palm of his hand landed right down on top of the point of one of the houses.”

“He cried,” Boyd snickers –  _Boyd_ , of all people.

“It was hilarious,” Isaac laughs. “He still blames Derek.”

“Well he should’ve been playing properly like the rest of us,” Derek tries to say seriously but he looks like he really wants to laugh.

“Point is,” Erica cuts in. “Don’t start something with Derek you can’t finish.” The look she gives him suggests her words have a deeper meaning and Stiles swallows hard.  _Believe me_ , Stiles thinks,  _I don’t think I could._

The rest of the night passes by smoothly and they head into the lounge for drinks because Laura and Cora love the cheesy shows they put on at night.

“It’d be just like Peter to demand acrobats perform _every_  night,” Cora scoffs around her martini.

“Obviously,” Laura drawls in agreement.

Stiles can’t decide if it’s more amusing to watch the acrobats or the people he’s sitting with.

Derek returns from the bar a moment later and thunks a beer down in front of Stiles. “Got this for you,” he grunts, glowering when he sees the only available seat left is the little two-seater couch Stiles is sitting on.

Stiles looks at him in surprise, feeling his lips curve up when Derek won’t look at him. “Thanks, man,” he says happily, picking up the bottle and taking a swig. “I was totally gonna go up and get my own in a sec with Isaac and Kira.”

“Yeah Derek, where’s my beer?” Isaac pipes up, smile widening at the withering glare Derek sends his way.

Stiles decides to take pity on him and doesn’t draw any more attention to Derek, instead looking up at the stage where the acrobats are finishing up their opening act. He feels Derek relax minutely beside him and smiles into the lip of his beer.

Derek buys his drinks for the rest of the night and Stiles is pretty sure he gushes about it at least as long as Scott talks about his date when he gets home later that night and they end up staying up until two in the morning.

*

When Scott and Stiles stumble down to the lobby the next morning, yawning and bleary-eyed, Finstock’s waiting for them.

“Morning boys!” he yells excessively loudly.  No one should be that awake at 9am, that man is insane. “Just here to give you your work schedule for the next two weeks.”

“But we already have our shifts for next week,” Scott replies perplexedly, sleepily scrubbing at his eyes and looking far too adorable while doing it.

“Yeah, change of plans,” Finstock shrugs dismissively. He hands them both a folded up piece of paper with a flourish and immediately flounces off to go bother someone else. Stiles hears him yell and then there’s a clashing sound which is more than likely some poor, unsuspecting staff member bringing a room service cart back to the restaurant.

He winces in sympathy before unfolding the piece of paper. He skims it quickly, eyes skirting back up the page when he takes stock of the times. “Wait, this says we’re working the night shifts?”

“The bellboys that usually work nights asked to switch for the week,” Derek informs them from behind the front desk. Stiles hadn’t even realised he was there.

“Why though?” Scott asks, face scrunched up in confusion.

“You’ve seen the twins, right? Well their family’s vacationing here for the week or something,” Derek shrugs.

“Wait, so are you working nights with us?” Stiles asks hopefully. Why else would Derek know about the schedule change? They hardly ever see the night staff.

Derek makes a face like he was really wishing to avoid answering that question for a little bit longer. “Yes,” he admits, sounding ridiculously defeated.

“That’s gonna be so awesome!” Stiles crows and Derek makes a face at him. “The night shifts are usually dead, right?”

“Yeah,” Derek says warily. “It’s mostly just people checking in after arriving on a late flight and people checking out early if they have to get a morning flight home.”

“We’re gonna have so much fun,” Stiles declares, gliding behind the front desk with a laughing Scott following him. “Us three amigos,” he adds dreamily, slinging one arm around Derek’s neck and the other around Scott’s.

Derek shrugs his arm off almost instantly. “How about you two amigos do whatever I say and then I’ll tolerate your presence?”

“Please Derek.” Stiles clucks his tongue, “We’ve totally grown on you.”

“Like a fungus,” Derek drawls.

He barks out a startled laugh, spinning his chair exaggeratedly to look at Scott. “Oh my god, Scott did you just hear that? Derek made a joke!”

Scott gives him an amused look that seems far too knowing. “Yeah Stiles, I heard.”

Stiles narrows his eyes at him, about to retort when a family steps up to the front desk to be checked in. Scott just grins at him and drags him away to get the luggage cart.

*

On the first day of the night shift Stiles and Scott are pretty much running on about three hours sleep – trying to sleep in broad daylight to the sounds of kids squealing and splashing in the pool isn’t easy.

Derek smirks at them when they get down to reception at eleven, probably  _not_ looking well rested. “This is gonna break you,” he teases.

“Shut up,” Stiles huffs. “We’ve pulled all-nighters tons of times.”

“Mhm,” Derek hums. “I’m sure those went very well in the past.”

Scott cringes – no doubt thinking of that time they stayed up for twenty-four hours, savouring their last day of freedom before their first day of sophomore year. They’d gotten detention in record time for falling asleep in English.

“We’ll be fine,” Scott replies absently, collapsing into one of the spinny chairs behind the desk.

Stiles follows suit, taking the chair in between him and Derek – Scott’s been purposely letting him sit next to Derek all week, Stiles would smack him for being so obvious if he didn’t completely love him for it.

Derek doesn’t really pay much attention to them for the next couple of hours though. He’s too busy doing stuff on the computer.

When he said the place would be dead Stiles didn’t realise just  _how_  dead it would be. As soon as the bar and lounge close, any and all guests disappear from the lobby and leave the place completely empty. By 2am there hasn’t been a call from a guest in at least an hour.

Stiles and Scott have been contenting themselves with building a castle out of playing cards on the desk and alternately looking up cat videos on YouTube. All the while Stiles has been trying to engage Derek in conversation but isn’t getting more than a noncommittal grunt or, if he’s lucky, a hum in answer.

Eventually though a certain brunette stumbles down to reception, wearing what is most definitely pyjamas and a sleepy smile – Scott almost falls off his chair when he sees her. “Thought I could keep you company while you take your break,” Allison says sheepishly.

Scott whirls his chair around to look at Derek with giant, beseeching eyes. “Can I  _please_  take my break now?” he begs.

Derek looks like he’s considering refusing purely to see the look on Scott’s face but eventually he nods. “Not like we’re busy,” he adds with a shrug. “Stiles and I can hold down the fort.”

Stiles absolutely should not have a thrill running through him hearing the words “Stiles and I.”

“Awesome! Thanks bro!” Scott says hurriedly and then scampers out from behind the desk to take a midnight – 3am – stroll with Allison.

“So,” Stiles spins his chair to face Derek, “It’s just you and me,” he says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Derek scoffs but Stiles can see the grin he’s trying to hide by ducking his head. “Would you do some actual work?” Derek chastises, not really sounding all that mad.

“Like what?” Stiles asks. “Please tell me what there is to do at three o’clock in the morning while everyone’s asleep and there are no guests due to arrive or check out until five?”

“Just-“ Derek waves a hand, looking around like something he can force Stiles to do will magically appear in front of him. “Go make us coffee.”

Stiles contemplates putting up a fight but Derek looks flustered and that’s treat enough for him. “Got it!” He pulls himself up off the chair and wanders into the break room through the door behind the reception desk in search of the coffee machine.

He strolls back out a few minutes later, two coffee cups in hand, and sets one down in front of Derek.  “I was gonna put sugar in yours but I figured you’re sweet enough already,” he tells Derek with a winning smile.

Derek looks up, affording him a very impressive glare.

“Would you have preferred if I made it black like your soul?” he asks, laughing uneasily.

“You were literally sent here to test my patience,” Derek complains, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Shut up, dude,” Stiles harrumphs, dropping into his seat and spinning aimlessly from side to side. “I totally amuse you.”

Derek gives him a long, considering look and Stiles tries valiantly not to blush under the scrutiny.

“Sometimes,” Derek concedes.

“Naw, I think all the time,” Stiles disagrees, amusement glinting in his eyes. Teasing Derek has legitimately become his new favourite hobby.

“Don’t push your luck,” Derek advises, checking Stiles with his elbow and grinning almost embarrassedly.

Stiles watches him for a moment; how he ducks his head in a way that should be so uncharacteristic of him but instead is just incredibly endearing and the soft smile on his lips that he doesn’t even seem to realise is there. God, Stiles is falling  _fast._

“I’ll try,” he croaks.

*

Scott returns forty-five minutes later, wearing a dopey smile and ruffled hair that looks to be the work of a certain Miss Argent.

“Have fun, buddy?” Stiles grins, waggling his eyebrows.

It should be a testament to how far gone Scott is that he doesn’t even punch Stiles’ shoulder for that. Instead he just sighs dreamily and says, “Yeah.”

Stiles laughs, getting up off his chair and clapping Scott on his shoulders as he passes him to get out from behind the front desk. “Well now that you’re distracted it’s time to play.”

“Play what?” Derek asks, eyeing the two of them warily.

“Luggage cart races!” Scott exclaims when he catches on, the animation returning to his voice as he runs out from behind the desk to follow Stiles.

“Absolutely not,” Derek says sternly when Stiles starts dragging the cart over to the front desk.

“Why?” Stiles pouts exaggeratedly, giving Scott a subtle high-five as he strides past with his own luggage carts.

“Those are for bringing bags upstairs. Not playing on,” Derek scowls, like he’s reciting it from a script. Stiles should’ve known he’d be one of those goody-two-shoes, stickler for the rules types.

“Don’t lie and tell me you’ve never done this,” Stiles snorts, beginning to tow his cart up the small wheelchair ramp next to the steps at the back of the lobby that lead to the pool.

“I haven’t and you shouldn’t either,” Derek frowns.

“Fine! You can keep score then!” Stiles calls, readying his position before casting a glance to his left to see Scott bracing himself in a similar fashion. “Ready, Scotty?”

“Oh yeah,” Scott grins. “On three. One. Two.  _Three!”_

At the same time they push themselves off, sailing down the ramp and across the foyer. Stiles whoops in delight, throwing a peace sign Derek’s way as he passes the front desk.

“You’re paying for that if you break it!” Derek calls but Stiles ignores him, focusing on dropping one of his feet to the floor to turn the cart so he doesn’t crash into the fountain.

Stiles keeps pushing forward, not really noticing Scott’s taken the opposite way around the fountain until their luggage carts are colliding and they’re both crashing to the ground.

Stiles pushes himself up on his elbows, sits still for a second to catalogue any potential injuries, then looks over at Scott who’s grinning widely at him. “That. Was.  _Awesome_. Let’s do it again!”

Scott nods vigorously in agreement, scrambling to stand up and bring the carts back to their starting positions.

“Let’s  _not_ do that again,” Derek drawls, already after migrating over to the fountain and standing over Stiles. He holds a hand out like he’s considering smacking Stiles the same way you’d discipline a dog instead of helping him up.

“Don’t lie, you really wanna play now, don’t you?” Stiles challenges, mostly to distract himself from the fact he’s  _holding Derek’s hand_.

Derek pulls him up, relaxing his expression like he’s about to agree.  “Ah-  _No_ ,” he retorts, giving Stiles a shit-eating grin in response to his scowl.

“Just one more go,  _please!”_  Stiles begs, now clutching Derek’s hand with both of his. It takes him a second to realise what he’s doing before his eyes widen in horror and he snatches his hands away, hoping Derek didn’t notice. “You didn’t keep score last time,” he adds feebly.

Derek stares at the place where their hands were just a second ago for far too long before blinking and meeting Stiles’ gaze. “Fine,” he says. “One more.”

“You’re the best!” Stiles exclaims before racing off to pull the luggage cart back up to where Scott’s waiting at the top of the ramp.

“If you’re gonna do it,” Derek says, following behind. “You should at least do it properly.”

“What are you-“ Stiles cuts himself off when he turns around and sees Derek beginning to rearrange the arm chairs that are clustered in the corner of the lobby so they curve along with the fountain, making a loose outline of a track.

Derek jogs over to the front desk then, striding back a moment later with a stack of plastic cups that are supposed to be for the water dispenser. He pulls half off the stack and throws them in Scott and Stiles’ direction. “Start making a course outline.”

Scott and Stiles share a look of disbelief before hurrying down the ramp and setting out plastic cup face down in the vague shape of track until they meet Derek somewhere around the front desk.

“ _Now_  you’re ready,” Derek says calmly but the look on his face says he’s just as excited as they are. Stiles  _knew_  Derek could be fun; he just needs a little push.

Derek hops up onto the steps next to the ramp and levels them both with a gaze. “On your mark,” he begins, his lips tugging up in an involuntary smirk. “Get set… _go!”_

Stiles hears a yell from Scott as they soar down the ramp. It’s more difficult this time; Stiles has to keep pushing off with his foot to stay on course so he doesn’t knock over any of the plastic cups.

He’s not really sure how close Scott is but he’s pretty sure he’s winning. Well he is until he comes around the fountain and Derek comes into view again and- he’s  _laughing_.  He’s all crinkly-eyed and blinding smile and Stiles is completely and utterly floored.

He’s not really watching where he’s going or even attempting to move really so he doesn’t particularly notice Scott zooming past him a second later. He’s too busy gaping at Derek’s face. Derek catches him looking and he stops laughing but he doesn’t look away either. They sort of just get stuck in a staring contest and he doesn’t really know what it means but it’s got him swallowing hard and unable to look away.

Scott’s crow of victory finally snaps him out of it and he looks over to see Scott back at the base of the ramp, hopping off the luggage cart and jumping up to request a high-five from Derek.

Derek raises his eyebrows, tries to keep his face smooth and stoic but eventually huffs a laugh and offers his hand for Scott.

Stiles stumbles over to them, still feeling a little dazed at the sheer image of Derek actually being amused – and not in the “torturing Stiles is hilarious” kind of way.

“Dude what happened to you?!” Scott exclaims. “You were total pulling ahead until the end.”

“Oh uh, one of the wheels got stuck rounding the fountain,” he says vaguely. Derek meets his gaze then with an indecipherable look, making Stiles’ heart thump heavily in his chest.

“Sucks bro,” Scott commiserates. “We can go again if you want?” he offers because he’s an angel.

“Uh, no you won’t,” Derek intones, heavily implying that playtime is over.

“Nah it’s good, Scotty,” Stiles shrugs, looking away from Derek and clapping him on the back. “You won, revel in it,” he grins.

“Yes, congratulations,” Derek says mildly. “Now clean this up.” He smirks at them both then and heads back to the front desk.

“Dude you’re the one who moved everything in the first place!” Stiles complains to Derek’s retreating back.

“I’m your superior!” Derek calls casually over his shoulder.

Stiles is about to remark back when Scott chuckles next to him and taps Stiles’ chest lightly. “Come on, man. Let’s get this place cleaned up. I’ll totally let you whisper about how dreamy Derek’s smile is while we’re moving furniture.”

Stiles wheels around to gape at him, “You-“ He stops short when he sees Scott’s knowing smile.

“The wheel got stuck? Really?” Scott is practically beaming he looks so delighted with himself.

“Shut up,” Stiles grumbles. “And keep your voice down,” he hisses as an afterthought.

“My lips are sealed,” he promises solemnly. “Just like you wish yours were over Derek’s,” he adds under his breath.

Scott lets out one tiny giggle as the words register in Stiles’ head and then he pre-emptively starts running away.

“I’m gonna kill you!” Stiles threatens, chasing after him. Scott is the worst when he’s funny.

“If you wanna room with someone else you should’ve just asked. No need to get so drastic!” Scott laughs.

Stiles tackles him to the ground and gives him a noogie.

*

Stiles is sitting on the hallway floor with his legs stretched out in front of him, idly fiddling with his phone and wondering just how scarring it’d be to walk in on Scott and Allison so he could grab his pillows.

Being sexiled hadn’t sounded so awful at first. In fact, he’d even offered to make himself scarce after Scott and Allison’s fourth date because as adorable as they are, the sexual tension was getting kind of stifling. He just never considered where exactly he would go while they were in his and Scott’s room.

So, sitting on the floor outside his room was pretty much his only option. He’s flicking through his apps, trying to figure out which one will conserve the most battery if he plays it for the next six hours when someone almost trips over his legs.

Stiles startles, his head snapping up to find Derek standing over him, wearing an expression that seems to be alternating between surprised and annoyed.

“What the hell are you doing?” Derek asks – though “asks” might be too strong a word, “deadpans” sounds more accurate.

In Stiles’ defence, he worked a nine hour shift today and he’s been sitting here pretty much since the lounge closed two hours ago which means his ass is asleep, he’s got a crick in his neck and hie’s pretty fucking tired. So he can’t be held accountable for looking up into Derek’s goddamn kaleidoscope eyes and saying, “Scott and Allison are having the sex and Lydia wouldn’t let me crash in Allison’s bed.”

Derek gives him quite possibly the most pained expression he’s ever seen before sighing like the world is a cruel place, existing only to torture him. “If I let you stay with me do you promise to never call it, “having the sex,” again?”

Stiles immediately jumps up, wobbling a little from sitting down for so long, and nods his head earnestly.  “I promise,” he says quickly before Derek revokes the offer.

Derek watches him for a second with a bemused sort of look before shaking his head and heading down the corridor. Stiles scrambles after him, feeling giddy and nervous and about a million other things. He’s spending the night in Derek’s room.  _Derek’s room._

“So you’re adverse to “having the sex”,” Stiles says conversationally, laughing a little bit at how that sounds. “But what about, “making the beast with two backs”? Or the “dance with no pants”? Or-“

Derek actually  _stops_  walking to stare at him incredulously. He doesn’t even say anything, like there are no words to even convey how unimpressed he is with Stiles right now. Eventually he settles on, “I  _will_  make you sleep out here, you know? We haven’t gotten to my room yet.”

“Shutting up!” Stiles replies promptly, pretending to zip his lips shut.

Derek shakes his head but Stiles suspects he’s amused – he’s become very familiar with the subtle twitch of Derek’s lips when he tries to keep his expression blank.

Derek owns the room at the very end of the corridor. He’s the only one of them that’s not sharing with anyone and in the six weeks Stiles has been here, it’s the only room he hasn’t been in.

Stiles can’t help but look around as he follows Derek inside even though it looks the same as all the other rooms on their floor except there’s only one bed instead of two. Wait. There’s only one bed instead of two.

What is- Is he- Are they-

Derek interrupts Stiles’ internal panic, throwing his jacket on the chair by the TV and saying, “I’ll take the couch.”

“Wh- no, dude. You’re letting me stay here, the least I could do is take the couch.” He doesn’t think he could actually handle sleeping in Derek’s bed – where it smells like him and wow, maybe Stiles should dial back the crazy thoughts just a tad?

“It’s fine, it pulls out.” Derek shrugs, tossing the couch cushions on the ground so he can convert it.

“Which is why it’ll suit me just fine,” Stiles cuts in.

Derek straightens up from where he was fixing the mattress and gives him a somewhat exasperated smile. “Stiles, I can take the couch,” he says softly but with finality.

Stiles feels his face heat up and he’s pretty sure he’s knees are a little weak. “Okay,” he replies meekly. Stupid Derek, making him feel all blushing and bashful all the goddamn time.

He’s really, really not prepared for what happens next. That is to say, Derek strips off his t-shirt. Shit, he’s getting changed, Stiles didn’t even think about that. At least Derek’s not facing him. Except- wow he’s got a tattoo in between his shoulder blades and Stiles  _really_  didn’t know he had a tattoo kink. You learn something new every day.

Derek turns around then, picking up a pair of shorts that obviously had been chucked on the chair this morning, and looks down at his jeans then back up at Stiles. His ears turn pink almost immediately and it shouldn’t be adorable. It’s shouldn’t – but it so is. “I’m just gonna-“ Derek says awkwardly, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the bathroom before speeding off.

Stiles is just thanking his lucky stars that he had the presence of mind to change into basketball shorts and a t-shirt before he left his own room. Clothes sharing might actually have killed him.

Derek comes out a few minutes later in shorts that really just seem to be sweatpants cut off at the knee and Stiles is still standing in the middle of the room. “So uh- sleep?” Derek suggests, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably.

Stiles starts. “Right. Yeah. Let’s do that.”

Derek brushes past him then and Stiles refuses to shiver at the touch – he’s not sure how successful he is though. He turns to Derek’s bed then, taking a deep breath like he’s steeling himself for something terrifying – which he is, kind of.

Slowly, he pulls back the sheets and slips under the covers. By the time he’s tossed and turned a couple of times and rolled onto his side he sees Derek on the pull-out couch, laying on his side, facing Stiles.

“Night,” Stiles whispers. This feels incredibly intimate and he’s pretty sure he needs to stop being so obvious with the way he stares at Derek.

“Night,” Derek whispers back before reaching up to flick the light switch and the room is plunged into darkness.

Stiles waits for his eyes to adjust but the blackout curtains make it hard for him to make out Derek a few feet away. “So how did your uncle buy a hotel?” he asks after a few minutes, hoping Derek’s still awake.

A snort from across the room says he is. “My mom’s family is pretty wealthy. When my mom got her trust fund she put most of it into a savings account; she spends a lot of time working for charities and stuff like that,” Derek explains, his voice turning reverent as he talks about her. “When Peter got his, he…”

“Bought a hotel?” Stiles fills in.

Derek huffs a laugh and Stiles can almost see him shaking his head at how ridiculous it all sounds. “Basically.”

Stiles grins. It’s weird that he never connected Derek to his uncle though. He’s pretty sure Peter’s name was on the contract he had to sign…Wait, Peter Hale. That means-

“Your last name is Hale.”

“Astute observation Stiles.”

“As in like your mom is Talia Hale?” Stiles presses. He can’t believe he never figured it out before. He knew the Hales from all the police balls he went to with his dad. He knew they had three kids, knew Cora was in the grade above him but he never even considered that the Hales who own the super cool manor house in the woods were also Derek’s parents.

Derek is silent for a while before eventually sighing out a, “Yes.”

“You’re from Beacon Hills,” Stiles continues incredulously. “Why didn’t you say anything the first day when I told you where Scott and I were from?”

“I’d just met you!” Derek protests indignantly. “And you were loud and you didn’t shut up. I just blocked you out for the most part.”

Stiles probably should be offended by that but he finds himself barking out a laugh instead. “I don’t know why I like you,” he laughs before he realises what he just said. He freezes and quickly stammers out a cover up. “I mean like, in general. You know. Platonically.”

He still can’t make Derek out in the darkness but he can feel him staring. Stiles is suddenly glad it’s pitch black so he won’t be able to see the blush.

“Well I don’t think those things now,” Derek admits quietly a moment later. “I mean, I do. But they don’t really bother me so much anymore,” he adds playfully.

“Told you I’m a delight,” Stiles sniffs to cover up the way his heart is beating double-time. Coming from Derek, that’s practically a love confession.

 Derek makes a noise that’s probably meant to be a laugh and mutters, “Sure.”

“How come I’ve never seen you before?” he wonders aloud.

“By the time you started high school I was already a freshman in college and I’ve been working here the past few summers so I haven’t been home a lot,” Derek explains.

“And by the time you graduated, I was leaving Beacon Hills for college,” Stiles realises.

“Pretty much,” Derek agrees. “I’ve been at grad school the last couple of years anyway.”

“What are you studying?” Stiles asks, tucking his arm underneath his pillow. He can finally make out the lump on the couch that’s meant to be Derek.

There’s the rustling of sheets like Derek’s trying to get comfortable and then a quiet and simple, “History.”

Stiles has a moment that he will never admit to out loud imagining Derek in nerdy glasses, wearing a sweater vest and a shirt with elbow patches and feels a little woozy. “It suits you,” he mumbles eventually.

“Oh really?” Derek asks wryly, as if he’s reading Stiles’ mind.

“Mhm,” he hums noncommittally. “I think this is the first time you’ve ever told me about yourself,” he adds hesitantly. He doesn’t really want to jinx it.

“Maybe I’ve just resigned myself to the fact that you’re gonna keep asking until I do.”

“Or maybe you want to tell me,” Stiles replies softly.

It’s quiet for a while, actually it’s quiet for so long Stiles has almost accepted the fact it’s time to go to sleep until-

“Maybe,” Derek concedes. “We should get some sleep,” he whispers a few moments later.

“Right,” Stiles agrees begrudgingly. He could talk to Derek all night and never feel tired. “Night, Derek.”

“Night, Stiles.”

*

Stiles is having breakfast. With Derek. In his  _hotel room_.

It had been insanely cute actually. When Stiles woke up Derek had been setting out their food on the tiny table across from the bed. Stiles must’ve made a noise or something because Derek had looked over at him and shyly told him he’d ordered them breakfast from room service.

Stiles might’ve fallen in love with him then and there.

So right now they’re sitting across from each other, digging into their pancakes, bacon and eggs that the chefs had arranged like a smiley face – Stiles has a sneaky suspicion that was per Derek’s request.

It’s nice, they’re mostly trading small talk but it feels oddly comfortable. Like they wake up together every morning and have breakfast. And god that’s a nice thought.

But then-

“Derek, are you dressed yet?” Laura demands, barging into the room. Apparently she has a key card? “Cora wants to go surfing with you and-“

She stops short when she sees the two of them sitting at the table together. Her expression is blank for a moment but then a devilish grin appears on her face. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” she asks, folding her arms and throwing Derek a mischievous look.

“I slept on the couch,” Derek points out immediately.

Stiles can’t figure out if the look on her face is complete disbelief or her trying to decide just how much she should tease Derek for this. “Is that so?” she asks wryly. “Are you sure you didn’t  _start_  on the couch and then migrate to the bed?”

 _“Laura!”_  Derek exclaims, looking mortified as his face flushes bright pink.

“I’m just kidding!” she huffs, throwing her hands up in the air but the grin that’s still on her face begs to differ. “Now will you get dressed? You haven’t been able to go to the beach with Cora and I since we’ve been here and we’re going home in a couple of days.”

Derek drags a hand down his face resignedly but his expression softens when he looks at his sister. “I’ll be ready in a few. Do you think it’s safe to go back to your room yet?” he directs to Stiles.

Stiles checks the time on his phone and hopes against hope that Allison and Scott decided the shower was the destination for their morning sex so he can at least get changed. “I guess we’ll find out.”

“Why doesn’t Stiles just come with us?” Laura suggests and oh no, there’s no way her motives are innocent.

“I wouldn’t want to impose-“ Stiles begins to object but she talks over him.

“Don’t be stupid!” she dismisses. “Invite the others too. It’ll be fun!”

Stiles, at a loss for how to answer, looks to Derek. Derek hesitates, looking between Stiles and his sister at least three times before his expression becomes something unreadable. “You should come,” he tells Stiles finally.

Stiles nods, tries in vain not show how excited he is Derek said yes and probably fails. “I’ll go get Scott and Allison.”

“I’ll start knocking on doors up and down the hallway until our friends emerge,” Laura announces blithely and Derek rolls his eyes exasperatedly. “Everybody meet in the lobby in twenty minutes.”

“Got it.” Stiles sets his knife and fork on his plate and stands up. Derek’s getting up a second later and Laura very graciously leaves the room to get the others. Stiles slips on his shoes, pockets his phone and tries not to feel like he’s Derek’s one night stand being walked to the door the morning after.

Stiles turns once he’s through the threshold and tries valiantly not to whine when he finds Derek leaning against the doorjamb; his hair is still all dishevelled from sleep and he hadn’t put on a shirt when he woke up. He looks like every single one of Stiles’ fantasies all wrapped up in one.

“So, um,” Stiles swallows. “Thanks for letting me stay last night. You’re a life-saver.”

“It wasn’t too horrible,” Derek allows before grinning teasingly at him. It’s a huge deal honestly, given Derek usually either just gives him a sarcastic look or a smirk that haunts Stiles’ dreams. But this- this  _playfulness_ , yeah, that’s new.

Stiles tries to tear his eyes away from Derek so he won’t trip over his own feet when he starts walking away but he’s finding it pretty difficult. “I’ll see you in a while?” he asks and he doesn’t know why he sounds so hopeful. He already _knows_  Derek is coming.

“Yeah,” Derek agrees softly, still smiling even as he’s shutting the door.

Stiles is so screwed.

*

When Stiles enters his own room, half-contemplating shielding his eyes because he’s not sure what sight he’s gonna be greeted by, he finds Scott and Allison sitting cross-legged on Scott’s bed with room service. Pretty much doing exactly what he and Derek were doing this morning and nope, not going there.

“Good morning,” Allison says sweetly, dimpling at him.

“You guys are both off today, right?” he asks in lieu of greeting. He knows Scott is and he’s guessing Allison is too or she’d probably already be down at the pool with the kids.

“Yeah dude, why? Are we doing something?” Scott asks, stealing a piece of French toast off Allison’s plate and taking a bite.

“How does the beach sound?” Stiles asks, rifling through his section of the closet to find his swim trunks.

“Yes!” Scott exclaims excitedly. “Is everybody going?”

“Laura’s rounding the troops now,” Stiles says over his shoulder. “She said to meet down in the lobby in twenty.”

“I’ll go get changed and grab Lydia,” Allison says, climbing off the bed and making her way to the door with Scott following her. Stiles hears their whispered goodbyes and darting kisses while he’s shoving a beach towel and sunscreen in his backpack and tries to pretend he’s not jealous the same thing hadn’t happen with him and Derek.

Scott wanders back into the main part of the room with a dopey grin on his face a few minutes later.

“Good night last night, buddy?” Stiles asks, trying not to laugh at the dazed look on Scott’s face.

“You have no idea,” Scott sighs happily, flopping down into a chair and watching Stiles pack his bag. “Thanks for letting us have the room, man.”

“No problemo, Scotty,” Stiles assures him as he changes his t-shirt. “Anything for true love.”

Scott makes a pleased sound and finally realises he’s supposed to be getting ready. He heaves himself of the chair while Stiles saunters into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“Hey where’d you end up staying last night anyway?” Scott calls from the bedroom.

Stiles spits, calls out, “Derek’s!” and goes back to brushing his teeth until he hears a crash in the other room.

When he races in he finds Scott trapped in his t-shirt and sprawled on the floor, more than likely after tripping over the leg of the table. Stiles clamps down on his toothbrush with his teeth so it doesn’t fall out of his mouth and drops to his knees to help free Scott from his t-shirt hell. When he finally does Scott’s flushed and practically out of breath but he still manages to yell, “Derek’s?!” hysterically.

“Yes, Derek’s,” Stiles chuckles after taking his toothbrush out and sitting back on his haunches.

“Did you two- I mean, is there something you want to tell me?”

“What? No!  _Scott_.” Stiles rolls his eyes, shoving Scott’s shoulder and standing up, heading back to the bathroom and pointedly ignoring Scott’s laughter.

“I just want you to know I support you, bro!” Scott calls in between his snickering

*

Laura looks like a frazzled teacher after being roped into chaperoning a field trip when they arrive at reception. She’s literally doing a head count when they join the group.

Once she’s satisfied they’re all there they pile out the front door and begin the short walk to the beach. It’s a five minute journey, tops. Except with all the bags, towels, surfboards and a volleyball the walk probably takes a little bit longer.

Allison hangs back with Lydia in tow to walk with Scott and Stiles, which means Jackson’s also trying to walk with them. Stiles spots Derek up ahead sandwiched in between Cora and Erica and looking vaguely harassed.

Everyone breaks apart once they reach the sand. Lydia drags Allison and Erica away to find the perfect spot to sunbathe. Laura follows a moment later after whispering something in Derek’s ear that makes his ears go pink.

Danny fires a volleyball at Jackson’s head to get his attention – it’s beautiful – and jogs over to where Isaac and Boyd are waiting at the already constructed volleyball net. They look like they’re in a friggin’ photoshoot for a pin-up calendar; already having stripped off their t-shirts so their ridiculous abs can shimmer in the sun. Assholes.

Isaac calls Scott over then and Scott looks to Stiles, waiting to see if he’s coming.

Stiles sneaks a glance at Derek who’s about to head into the surf with Cora and Kira. Derek looks up like he’s sensed he’s being watched and meets Stiles’ gaze briefly, sending him a quick smile before running after his sister.

Stiles shrugs and drops his backpack down by the towel Allison’s stretched out on and heads over to the volleyball net with Scott. “I’ll play as long as I’m not on Jackson’s team,” he announces obnoxiously loudly because it’ll piss Jackson off.

“Who says I’d let you on my team anyway, Stilinski?” Jackson sneers.

Stiles rolls his eyes and flips him off, getting into position on the other side of the net as Isaac graciously switches sides – whatever, Stiles knows he just wants to stand behind Danny and ogle him for the entire game.

Jackson is annoyingly good but Boyd’s better. He picks up the slack when Scott’s asthma makes him too short of breath from running back and forth and Stiles trips over his own feet. Danny’s pretty much flawless though and the only time they ever get anything passed him is when he’s too distracted looking at Isaac.

Stiles’ team loses technically but he’d still call it a victory given that he almost gave Jackson a blood nose when he smacked him straight in the face with the volleyball completely accidentally – and what a marvellous accident it had been.

Lydia seems to take pity on him and agrees to go for a walk with him to get ice for his face and Jackson stops frothing at the mouth. Scott wanders away with Allison to go get ice cream or do something else as disgustingly adorable while Erica, Laura and Boyd head for the water. Stiles doesn’t even wanna know where Danny and Isaac disappear to.

Stiles walks over to where all their bags and towels are lying and picks up his discarded t-shirt to wipe his forehead – he’d shucked it off halfway through the game when he felt like he was literally going to pass out from the heat.

He spreads out his towel next to the girls’ and flops down, digging around in his bag to find his sun screen.

He starts slapping it on his arms, too busy making sure he covers all his moles to notice Derek jogging towards him like an extra on Baywatch. Stiles’ mouth might drop open when he finally catches sight of him a few feet away; hair soaked, water droplets glistening on his skin and swim trunks clung to him with his surf board tucked under his arm. Stiles thinks he might be having a religious experience.

“Hey,” he says dumbly when Derek reaches him.

Derek gives him a peculiar smile as he digs his surf board into the sand to keep it standing and bends down to grab his towel. “Hey yourself.”

“Um, so how was the water?” Stiles asks, pointedly looking at Derek’s face and Derek’s face only – not that that helps, his face looks like it was sculpted by angels.

“Pretty amazing,” Derek admits, towelling off his torso. “Cora and I learned to surf when we vacationed here as kids. We always get in at least one trip to the beach when she and Laura come here now.” Derek’s wearing that expression he always has when talking about his family; a kind of mixture of exasperated and affectionate. It’s stupidly endearing.

“You’re pretty good,” Stiles says, feigning casual. “Cora kicked your ass though,” he mutters under his breath, grinning when Derek tries to hit him with the towel.

Stiles pulls back hastily, smirking haughtily when Derek misses.

“You’re burning,” Derek points out suddenly, gesturing to Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles glances down and can just about make out the reddened skin on his right shoulder.

“Unsurprising,” Stiles shrugs, picking up the forgotten sunscreen and squeezing some more onto his hand.

Derek crouches down and plucks the sunscreen out of Stiles’ hand. “You’re gonna miss spots,” he admonishes as if Stiles would purposely let his skin fry in the sun. “I’ll do your back and shoulders.”

“Uh- are you sure?” Stiles asks tentatively, even as Derek shuffles behind him on his knees, sunscreen in hand.

“Wouldn’t want you to be complaining about sunburn all day when we go back to work Monday,” Derek replies nonchalantly, smoothing his hands across Stiles’ shoulders and massaging in the sunblock and wow, yeah apparently this is going to be a self-control exercise. Cool.

Stiles tries to do some deep breathing exercises except like, quietly which doesn’t really work.

“Why are you so tense?” Derek wonders aloud, hands sweeping lower on Stiles’ back because drifting  _closer_  to Stiles’ waistband is definitely going to help this situation.

“Uh work stress, I guess,” Stiles breathes shakily, hoping Derek will put the flush of his skin down to the heat.

Derek snorts behind him, “Your job’s hardly that stressful.”

“I don’t know,” Stiles hedges. “My boss is a bit of a hardass…”

Derek digs his fingers into Stiles’ sides, making him squawk and twist around to smack Derek’s chest. His very chiselled chest, oh no. “No. Tickling.”

“That hardly classes as tickling,” Derek remarks amusedly.

Stiles tries to splutter out a reply but gets somewhat distracted when he realises how close he is to Derek’s face. “Shut up and sunbathe,” he mutters eventually.

Derek’s eyes flit over his face before he meets Stiles’ gaze again and nods absently. Derek moves away to stretch out his towel next to Stiles’ and Stiles tells himself he’s not feeling a little bereft at the loss of contact.

*

Laura and Cora go home two days later; Derek is given the morning off to take them to the airport.

When he comes in for his shift after lunch, he walks straight up to Stiles and thrusts an envelope in his face. “Laura said to give this to you,” he says gruffly.

Stiles blinks and gives Derek a baffled look as he takes the envelope. “Um okay? What is it?”

“She wouldn’t tell me,” he grumbles, sitting down in his chair and not doing a very good job of pretending he’s not annoyed about Stiles sharing secrets with his sister.

“And you didn’t just open it because…?”

“She told me not to,” Derek repeats emphatically and oh, that is just  _adorable._

Stiles spins idly on his chair as he takes out the folded up piece of paper, purposely tilting it away from Derek.

On the paper is a short message from Laura:

_Stiles,_

_I have to say I’m a little disappointed you didn’t take me up on my offer to help you prank Derek. I’ve got years’ worth of blackmail material._

_But hopefully you’ll take me up on this advice instead._

_Derek isn’t very good at asking for what he wants, he never has been. So if you want something to happen – and I think you do – you might have to be brave and go after it yourself. Be patient with him because when he decides he cares about someone, he cares with everything he has. So trust me, it’ll be worth it in the end._

_Good luck!!_

_Laura_

“What’s it say?” Derek grouses when he catches Stiles smiling.

Stiles looks up at him, shaking his head to try and keep the smile away. “What? Nothing. She was just telling me how to get you,” he says faintly.

Derek clucks his tongue and Stiles flicks his gaze back up from the note – he’s rereading, he needs to  _process,_  okay? – to see him scowling. “I  _told_  her she wasn’t allowed to help you prank me.”

Stiles only beams at him, he probably looks deranged. He doesn’t particularly care. “Don’t worry about it,” he tells him and hops up off his seat, shoving the note in his pocket and heading off to do the job he’d gotten just before Derek arrived.

*

Stiles has decided his favourite days are the weekends because they all get two days off. It means they spend their nights together in the lounge or in someone’s room, drinking and eating way too much food, or going into town in search of a bar or club. Their days are generally spent by the pool unless one of them takes the time to actually plan an outing.

This weekend they’re supposed to be driving up the coast to a beach Derek, Erica, Isaac and Boyd had found their first summer here together.

Stiles wakes up to what he thinks is the sound of running water. He rolls over and buries his head in his pillow, assuming Scott’s in the shower. However when he hears Scott’s faint snores coming from the other side of the room he opens his eyes in confusion. He pushes himself up on his elbows in a half-assed attempt to sit up and looks around the room with squinting eyes to try and locate where the sound is coming from.

“Scott,” he croaks. “Is it raining?”

Scott makes a sound like a dying cat and rolls over, cracking an eye open and glaring at Stiles. “S’too early,” he whines.

Stiles doesn’t bother answering him, just drags himself out of bed and stumbles over to the sliding glass doors. He pulls back the drapes and is greeted with the sight of grey clouds and torrential rain. Fantastic.

“Looks like we’re not going anywhere today, bud,” he calls over his shoulder, looking at the rain with as much moroseness as he can muster at ass o’clock – ten o’clock - in the morning.

Scott makes a pitiful sound behind him and Stiles turns around. He drops back down on his bed and gives Scott a sympathetic look.

“What are we supposed to do?” Scott asks groggily. “Nobody’s gonna leave the hotel so the place is gonna be mobbed.”

“Hang out in one of our rooms, I guess?” Stiles yawns, stretching his arms above his head

“We could have a slumber party,” Scott mumbles, already looking like he’s falling asleep again.

“What, like get everyone over here with their pillows and watch movies and eat junk food?” Stiles asks.

Scott makes a non-committal kind of noise. “Everyone needs a cuddle buddy for a storm.”

“You just want an excuse to snuggle with Allison.”

“I don’t need an excuse. I’m her boyfriend.” Scott shoots him a sleepy grin and Stiles rolls his eyes fondly. “Could be an excuse to cuddle with Derek though,” he adds mildly.

Stiles pauses to consider that. Derek in sweats, all sleep-rumpled and dishevelled hair like he was the night Stiles spent in his room…

“Slumber party it is!” Stiles declares. “I’m gonna text everyone and tell them come over with pillows and blankets and stuff.”

“And food!” Scott throws in, even though he looks dead to the world.

“Uh huh,” Stiles hums, reaching over to the side table to grab his phone. He sends a mass text that he thinks is pretty simple and to the point:

**Hey losers! 24-hour sleepover at mine and Scott’s! Bring whatever as long as food and pillows are included. Get your asses over here!!!**

Most of them text their affirmatives, saying they’ll come over when they’re ready. Allison arrives fifteen minutes later with her pillow and blanket tucked under one arm and a familiar case full of DVDs in the other. Her hair’s in a messy bun and it looks like she pretty much just rolled out of bed.

“Lydia’s got food covered,” she yawns when Stiles opens the door.

She drops the case by the TV and climbs onto Scott’s bed while Stiles goes back to his own. Scott actually deigns to crack open his eyes when she lands on the bed and shifts over to let her lie down with him. Allison stays rolled on her side so she can face Stiles and presses her back against Scott’s chest. Scott slings an arm around her waist and looks like he yawns into her hair. It’s gross in a really cute way.

“What time are the others coming over?” Allison asks sleepily.

“Soon-ish,” Stiles responds, scrubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand to try and wake himself up a bit more.

By the time everyone else arrives Scott is actually awake properly after some encouragement from Allison and a hefty dose of coffee.

Stiles is half-heartedly picking clothes up off the floor to make the place look more presentable when the knock at the door sounds. The others spill into the room, looking like they brought their entire hotel rooms with them.

He’s greeted with a chorus of “Morning!”s and a hug from Erica.

“Did someone order room service?” Lydia asks as she comes through the door, pushing a tray that probably contains every breakfast food known to man.

“No but I love you,” he replies seriously.

Lydia quirks her lips amusedly and offers her cheek so he can kiss it. It’s an honour, truly.

Derek is the last through the door and gives Stiles a sheepish smile before ducking through the threshold.

“Dude we should make a pillow fort!” Scott exclaims when everyone plops down on the beds, taking up all the space instantly.

Isaac perks up from where he’s perched sleepily on the edge of the bed and Kira bounces excitedly in her seat next to Danny.

“Hell yeah!” Stiles agrees enthusiastically. It’s probably the best way to allocate space honestly, since they only have two double beds and their couch doesn’t pull out.

There’s some groans from the more “serious” members of their group – aka the fun suckers – but everyone heaves themselves off the beds and helps set out their blankets and pillows. It ends up being more of a cover-every-hard/flat-surface-with-comforters design than an actual pillow fort but Stiles and Scott do manage to create a kind of canopy with their bed sheets over the space in front of the TV where most of the blankets are bulked together so it looks sort of like a tent.

It’ll do.

The breakfast Lydia brought is still blessedly hot when they rearrange themselves on the floor and Stiles has no qualms in scarfing down whatever he can before the vultures he calls his friends swoop in.

And the rest of the day passes in pretty much the same way. The rain doesn’t stop, the only time anyone moves is for a bathroom break, snack run or to put in a new DVD. By the time they reach ten o’clock most of them are in some form of a food coma.

Allison’s sitting in between Scott’s legs with her back to his chest, her eyes closed. Erica’s curled into Boyd’s side as he absently trails his fingers through her hair, he keeps drifting off and waking himself up again. Both Isaac and Kira are leaning against Danny and Lydia’s after falling asleep on Jackson’s shoulder – he looks so quietly thrilled Stiles can’t even make fun of him for it.

Stiles is squished in between Scott and Derek like usual and trying exceedingly hard not to lean into Derek’s warmth. There’s been a few moments throughout the day where either he or Derek moved into each other’s space, bumping shoulders or brushing hands but for the most part they’ve been sitting like they are now.

Stiles thinks he could probably get away with pretending to fall asleep on Derek but he’s also afraid Derek would just shift him onto Scott’s shoulder instead - he’d rather not take public rejection.

By the time the seventh? Eighth? movie they’ve watched ends, pretty much everyone is asleep except for the two of them.

“Want to watch another?” he whispers to Derek because he doesn’t want to move.

“Nah, I’m kinda tired,” Derek yawns, stretching slightly and Stiles surreptitiously casts his eyes downward to see a little sliver of skin where his t-shirt rides up.

“Oh. Okay,” Stiles nods, trying not to feel too disappointed. There’s no real reason to stay on the floor, he should just move up to his bed, Derek’s gonna get suspicious if he stays down here.

Stiles is about to roll onto his knees to crawl out from under the canopy but Derek grabs his shoulder to pull him back.

When he lands back down next to Derek he suddenly feels like they’re sitting a  _lot_  closer. Stiles turns his head to ask Derek what’s up but feels his breath catch in his throat when he realises there’s barely an inch of space between them.

“Um…” Stiles’ mouth feels like sandpaper and his shoulder’s burning where Derek’s hand is. He licks his lips in a nervous habit, watches Derek’s eyes flit down and track the movement and then feels  _even more_  nervous.

There’s a split second where he’s convinced Derek is going to lean in and there’s no way in hell Stiles is gonna stop him but then Scott makes a noise in his sleep on the other side of Stiles and they both jump apart.

He looks at Derek after he checks Scott is definitely still asleep and sees an embarrassed expression on his face. “I should probably go to bed,” he murmurs.

“You should stay down here,” Derek replies, looking surprised at himself for even saying it.

“Really?” Stiles asks, hardly daring to breathe.

“Yeah,” Derek answers slowly. “It’s not fair you get a comfy bed while the rest of us take the floor,” he adds jokingly.

Stiles is  _this_ close to offering to let Derek join him on the bed but he bites down on his tongue. Instead he settles in his spot on the ground, punching his pillow a couple of times because it’s flattened from him leaning against it all day. He and Derek are at the edge of their make-shift blanket fort which means they’re in no one’s way so Stiles stretches out and lies down, feeling his heart beat way too fast when Derek lies down next to him.

Stiles picks up the remote to turn off the TV since it’s the only light still on in the room and rolls onto his side – he just likes sleeping that way, okay? – to find Derek doing the same thing.

They’re close again but not as close as before, their knees knock together and they might as well be sharing one pillow but they’re just far enough away that it’s not  _too_  intimate. Who is he kidding? It’s really fucking intimate. Friends don’t sleep this close.

“Goodnight,” Stiles whispers, resisting the urge to reach out and catch Derek’s hand.

“Goodnight, Stiles,” Derek whispers back and oh god his thumb is brushing over the back of Stiles’ hand. Stiles doesn’t recall ever being this flustered by someone  _touching his hand_ but what d’you know, he might be having a heart attack.

In a fit of bravery, he turns his hand over and folds their fingers together. He hears a sharp intake of breath but then Derek’s hand relaxes in his.

*

Stiles wakes up to the sound of murmured voices and clinking coffee cups. When his eyes flutter open the first thing he sees is Derek’s face inches from his own and wow that’s a nice sight to wake up to.

Stiles rolls onto his back and realises he’s still holding Derek’s hand, he doesn’t have it in him to let go yet. Their pathetic attempt at a pillow fort is still standing but they’re not all clustered together anymore, though Boyd and Erica are still asleep in the other corner.

Stiles can hear Scott, Allison and Lydia vaguely in the direction of Scott’s bed and Jackson, Danny, Isaac and Kira on what’s probably Stiles’ own bed; they must be having breakfast.

He kind of just lies there and revels in what’s happening right now until he hears rustling and someone’s lifting the sheet up and crawling into the fort. Allison grins at him when Stiles’ eyes land on her.

“Morning,” Allison mouths as she scrambles over, carefully carrying a coffee cup in one hand. She offers it to Stiles and he tries to push himself up into a sitting position without waking Derek.

Allison watches them like they’re the most endearing thing on the planet and hands him the cup when he’s sitting comfortably. He’s had to sacrifice holding Derek’s hand but as soon as he’d let go Derek’s hand had just fallen to Stiles’ hip so he’s not exactly complaining.

“I’m pretty sure you and Scott have some sort of telepathic connection,” she tells him. “Because he could tell you were awake and he couldn’t even see you.”

“Yeah we honed that years ago,” Stiles chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“No problem.” Allison looks down at Derek then who’s inching closer and closer to burrowing into Stiles’ side.

“He really likes you, you know?” she says fondly.

“Nah,” Stiles replies bashfully, mostly because he’s been trying not to read into his situation with Derek ever since Laura left him that message and he’s failing miserably.

“Stiles, I’ve known him for two years and I’ve never seen anyone get under his skin like you.”

“Maybe I’m just really annoying. I have it on good authority that he thinks I grew on him like a fungus.”

Allison laughs, shaking her head. “I’m just telling you what I see,” she shrugs. “You can take whatever you want from it.” She gives him a sweet smile then and scurries out from under the sheet.

Stiles looks down at Derek once she’s gone, watching the way he’s slowly starting to stir, waking up, and thinks he might not be sure what Derek feels for him but he’s damn sure of his feelings for Derek.

*

Scott and Stiles have been working at the hotel just over two months when there’s a knock on their door in the middle of the night.

Scott stumbles over to the door since he’s closer and Stiles ambles behind him, trying to manoeuvre through the room in the darkness by using the flashlight on his phone. Scott swings open the door and both of them immediately flinch at the fluorescent brightness of the hallway. When their eyes finally adjust they land on Erica…in a swimsuit?

“Get dressed!” she whisper-yells. “We’re going down to the pool.”

“But it’s-“ Stiles leans heavily on Scott as he lifts his hand up to check the time on his phone, squinting at the screen. “Almost one o’clock in the morning?”

“Alright grandpa,” Erica snorts.

“Isn’t the pool closed?” Scott asks confusedly, leaning on the door to keep himself upright under Stiles’ weight.

“Which is why we’re sneaking out,” she explains like she’s talking to two toddlers. “We do it every year, come on.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Stiles asks, poking his head out the door and looking around the corridor. No one else is there.

“Derek’s leading them out the back entrance so we don’t have to walk past reception. I’m getting you two, so would you hurry up and get changed?”

Stiles and Scott share a look before shrugging. Why the hell not? Tomorrow’s Saturday, they don’t have to be anywhere.

“Give us ten minutes,” Stiles tells her and Erica tilts her chin triumphantly.

“I’ll be waiting.”

*

When they get down to the pool area the place is lit up with lanterns. Erica explains that the switches for them are in the poolside bar, in other words; she and Isaac have the keys.

“Won’t the lights draw attention?” Stiles asks, noting that the rest of the group is settling down in the Jacuzzi.

Erica rolls his eyes, “You  _are_  aware Derek’s uncle owns this hotel, right? Peter knows we do this every year, he doesn’t care as long as there’re no complaints from the guests the next morning.”

“If he knows, why bother sneaking around?” Scott asks.

Erica whirls around, walking backwards so she can face them with a wide grin on her face. “Because this is more fun.”

“Well look who the cat dragged in,” Isaac smirks when they arrive at the edge of the Jacuzzi.

“Cat _woman_ ,” Erica corrects primly, peeling off the kimono she’d been wearing over her bikini and slipping in next to Boyd.

The Jacuzzi’s pretty big but with nine of them already in there it’s a pretty tight fit. Scott nudges Danny over so he can sit next to Allison and then there’s only one space left. Between Derek and Erica. Great.

Stiles sinks in, ignoring the knowing look Erica gives him in favour of enjoying the warmth that runs through him as he settles into the water.

“Okay now that everyone’s here,” Lydia says, clapping her hands together.

“No funny business!” Danny chimes in, making Lydia roll her eyes like she generally does when she doesn’t want to admit any of them can make her laugh.

Lydia twists around, reaching behind her to get a tray with eleven glasses on top of it. They each hold some multi-coloured concoction that, if Erica and Isaac were the creators, is probably ninety-eight percent alcohol.

Everyone takes a glass so Lydia can set the tray back down on the edge of the Jacuzzi. “Now that everyone’s here,” she repeats. “I say we drink up!”

There’s a chorus of cheers and clinking of glasses and the bubbles come on as if on cue. Stiles looks over at Boyd – it was either him or Jackson, they’re the only ones with access to control room that holds the timer for the Jacuzzi – who shrugs, grinning unashamedly under Stiles’ gaze.

Stiles feels someone touch his elbow and hesitantly looks over at Derek – he’s been trying not to since he arrived.

“We do this every summer,” Derek explains, keeping his voice down even though no one else is paying them any attention. “It’s sort of tradition to pick one night where we can act like guests instead of the staff.”

“Don’t we do that every weekend?” Stiles asks, laughing lightly and taking a sip of his drink – he can’t tell if the fruit or the alcohol tastes stronger.

“True,” Derek concedes. “But this type of night, it always feels like we’re just here on vacation together. That’s why we like to sneak out.”

“To make it feel more authentic?” Stiles teases.

“Exactly. You know us, no-good, delinquent college kids,” he deadpans.

Stiles barks out a laugh, keeling forward and missing the way Derek’s eyes crinkle in the corners at his reaction.

“What?” Derek asks, lips curving up involuntarily.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles wheezes, wiping at his eyes which is pretty futile since his hands are wet. “Just. Imagining you as a delinquent. It’s so farfetched.” He can’t help it, he breaks down laughing again.

“How do you know I’m not a delinquent?” Derek asks, affronted.

“Derek, you’re the biggest stickler for the rules I’ve ever met,” Stiles snickers, sobering up when he sees the grumpy look on Derek’s face. “Don’t worry,” he adds, putting a reassuring hand on Derek’s shoulder. “I still like you.” And whoa maybe he should slow down with his drink?  Getting a little too close to the truth for his comfort, there.

Derek smirks tauntingly and Stiles feels his brain start to go fuzzy in a way that’s entirely non-alcohol related. “Oh really?”

“Really,” Stiles retorts bravely, honestly he’s just pretending Derek was referring to the first part of Stiles’ comment.

Derek’s eyes light up as he grins and it’s the most surreal thing Stiles has ever experienced. All he wants to do is surge forward and kiss the breath out of him – screw the drinks and nine other people in here with them.

“Alright come on!” Jackson demands a few minutes later, snapping Stiles out of his reverie. “We’re buzzed, can we go race in the pool now?”

The others immediately start climbing out - apparently races in the pool are another part of the tradition – and Stiles casts a glance at Derek, who’s giving him a considering look.

“I don’t really feel like racing,” he hears himself say.

“Me either,” Derek says idly before finishing off his drink in one gulp and setting down his glass on the edge of the pool. “But I know somewhere we can go where we won’t be in their way.” He stands up and offers his hand to Stiles and Stiles- well, there’s no way in hell he’s gonna pass  _that_  up.

They weave around the edge of the main pool; no one’s taking any notice of them, too busy bickering about who gets to go first and overly complicated rules. Derek pulls him along until they’re at the other side of the pool. At a first glance from the sunbathing area the pool looks to be in a semi-circle type shape with a big rock – cave? – feature in the centre but Derek brings him around the far side where there’s a little nook, nestled into the side of the rock and not viewable from the main pool area.

“I’ve been here two months and I had no idea this was here,” Stiles says in surprise.

“Most people don’t,” Derek replies. “The rocks have the waterfall feature on during the day so no one ever comes this close. It’s nice though.”

He lets go of Stiles’ hand to sit down on the pool edge and push himself in. Stiles follows, throwing one last glance back to the rest of the group.

He swims behind Derek right up until they reach the curve in the rock face then rests his arms up on the groove in the rock so they’re idling next to each other.

 “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re tryna get me alone,” Stiles comments airily.

“Maybe this is all part of my next prank,” Derek suggests.

“It’s my turn, remember?” Stiles reminds him, his stomach doing somersaults when Derek looks down, laughing softly. “…But I don’t think I’m gonna prank you anymore,” he continues quietly.

Derek head snaps back up to him and he raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”

Stiles shrugs indifferently and does his best to keep the coy smirk off his face – he’s not sure how well he does given the way Derek’s looking at him. “Maybe I have something else in mind.”

Derek cocks an eyebrow in surprise, his lips tugging up in one corner. He lets go of the rocks, slowly wading over until he’s in front of Stiles and they’re face to face. He swims forward a bit, closing the minuscule distance between them to plant his hands back on the rock on either side of Stiles’ torso. “Like what?”

Stiles’ breath stutters on his lips, his hands clamping down on Derek’s wrists like he’s going to use them to propel himself forward. Derek’s eyes flit down to Stiles’ hands before travelling back up to Stiles’ face.

He’s not sure which one of them moves first but suddenly one of Derek’s arms is around his waist reeling him in and Stiles’ hands are flying up to curve against Derek’s jaw. Their noses brush together and Derek’s so close Stiles can almost taste him, he just has to press that millimetre closer.

This is happening, this is really ha-

“Stiles?”

Never mind.

Stiles pulls back reluctantly, looking over Derek’s shoulder to see Scott floating just on the corner where the pool curves around with his jaw hanging open. Scott claps a hand to his mouth, seeming to realise what he just interrupted and begins shaking his head rapidly. “I’m sorry!” he stammers. “We just thought you guys might wanna go next! I’m just gonna- yeah. As you were!”

Scott whirls around in the water, swimming away hastily and Stiles huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Wanna go have one of those stupid races?” he sighs, trying to convince himself to let go of Derek.

“Not really,” Derek answers honestly, making Stiles snort. They don’t move for a second and Derek eventually heaves a long-suffering sigh. He loosens his grip on Stiles’ waist and reaches up to catch one of Stiles’ hands. “Come on, let’s head back.”

Stiles lets himself be dragged along, convinces himself they’re doing the right thing, that they’ve probably drank too much – even though they’ve both only had one drink -to make any real decisions tonight. Even though this is probably the most clear-headed he’s ever felt.

They join the rest of the group and they laugh and mess around and have fun and they don’t mention it. They clamber out of the pool an hour later and dry off and they still don’t mention it. They head up to their rooms, everyone far too hyper to actually feel tired and Stiles’ heart is in his throat when Derek squeezes his hand as he walks past on the way to his own room.

Stiles doesn’t sleep for a single second that night.

*

They don’t talk about it at work on Monday. Or at any other time really. Instead they just carry on as they always have except the lingering looks last just a little bit longer and carry a lot more weight.

Honestly, it’s stifling Stiles. And he knows he should just admit his feelings because he’s at least ninety percent sure Derek reciprocates but that other ten percent is making him a paranoid, insecure idiot.

Not to mention the fact that he’s going home in a couple of weeks and then what? He’s going straight back to Berkley with Scott and Derek’s- well, Stiles doesn’t really know  _what_ Derek’s plan is.

“Where you going once you finish up here?” Stiles asks out of the blue almost a week after the night at the pool. Scott’s across the lobby with an elderly couple trying to give them directions on their ginormous map but other than that the place is pretty dead; it’s the in-between time of the day.

Derek looks up from where he’d been tapping away at the computer with an inscrutable expression – it’s been getting harder and harder to read him this week and Stiles thinks Derek might be doing it on purpose.

“Well, this year was the last year of my Master’s degree,” Derek says. “So, I guess I’ll go wherever I can get a job?”

“Oh.” Stiles nods because it makes sense and because even if Derek  _was_ considering going back to Beacon Hills, Stiles wouldn’t be until Christmas.

“I think I might visit home more though,” Derek says after a while, watching Stiles carefully. “I’ve been so busy the last few years I haven’t really gotten the chance.”

Stiles feels a surge of hopefulness, the kind that makes him want to take Derek by the shoulders and tell him every single way that Stiles has fallen head over heels for him this summer. But he pushes it down, at least for now.

He’ll admit it at some point; he knows he will. Because he finds it hard to keep his mouth shut at the best of times and it’s killing him trying to be platonic with Derek but until he can overcome that ten percent that’s telling him he’s reading this all wrong, he’ll wait.

*

Stiles has one week left. One week until his contract ends and he flies home with Scott. One week until he potentially never sees Derek again.

It’s their last Saturday night together since most of them are going home next Saturday and the group has organised a barbeque at the beach – it’s their traditional end of year celebration for making it through the summer without maiming any guests apparently.

By the time Stiles arrives at the beach with Scott, Danny already has burgers sizzling on the portable barbeque and a few of the others are spreading out picnic blankets around of pile of sticks that’ll no doubt become a campfire once it’s dark.

Stiles spots Derek immediately – he’s helping Isaac scour the beach for sticks for the fire and looking irritatingly attractive as he does it.

Allison bounds up to them, skipping forward to peck Scott on the lips and catch his hand and then she’s leading them both over to the rest of the group.

“How can we help?” Scott offers once the customary greetings have been given.

Allison looks around, pondering the question. “Uh, well Erica’s got the drinks covered,” she says with a quirk of her lips.

Stiles follows her gaze and sees the blonde sitting cross-legged on the sand with a tray of glasses and an assortment of bottles in front of her, looking practically giddy with excitement. She can get so trigger-happy with a bottle of vodka.

“The guys are getting wood for the fire,” she gestures with her hand in the general direction of Isaac and Derek. “But they’re pretty much done.”

“Boyd and Kira are sorting out all the after dinner food,” she continues – in other words, they’re skewering marshmallows and setting them into individual plastic bowls with bars of chocolate, anticipating the s’more-making session of the evening.

“Lydia and I were just setting up the blankets and stuff so I guess just ask Danny if he needs help?” she suggests with a shrug.

“Wait, what’s Jackson doing?” Stiles asks, he can’t help but notice he was left out of that little role call.

Allison rolls her eyes exasperatedly. “Acting superior,” she grins before giving Scott a quick kiss on the cheek and hurrying back over to finish helping Lydia with the blankets.

Scott and Stiles begin to make their way across the sand to join Danny – and Jackson, who’s sitting nearby with his sunglasses on and his hands behind his head, looking like a grade-A douchebag – when Scott pipes up.

“Are you gonna tell Derek tonight?” he asks, quietly enough that no one else will hear him.

Stiles whips his head around to stare at his best friend in astonishment. “Tell him what?”

Scott gives him an unimpressed look, “Don’t play dumb, man, I know what I walked in on the other week.”

“We didn’t kiss, Scott, I  _told_  you,” Stiles grumbles.

“You were about to!” Scott protests. “And I’m still sorry I interrupted, by the way.”

Stiles huffs a laugh. “Don’t sweat it.”

“Look, I know how much you like him and I know that if you don’t tell him sometime in the next week you’re gonna spend forever obsessing over whether or not it was the right decision.” Sometimes Stiles hates how well Scott knows him; it always makes his lectures so much more convincing.

They’re nearing Danny so Scott tactfully doesn’t say anymore, just gives Stiles a meaningful look.

Danny sets them to work unloading the rest of the stuff from the cooler onto the folding table he’s got next to the barbeque. By the time everything’s ready Stiles hasn’t even acknowledged Derek yet – he’d forced himself to focus on organising paper plates rather than letting his eyes drift to where Derek was sitting on one of the blankets.

They all settle down on the blankets; the couples pairing off pretty much immediately, leaving Stiles, Kira and Derek to the final chunk of space around the now-lit campfire. Kira – because she’s clearly working under someone else’s orders – casually takes a seat next to Erica, leaving Derek and Stiles to take the space in between her and Scott.

Stiles drops down beside Scott, resists smacking him upside the head when he gives Stiles a significant smirk and takes a giant bite of his burger in an attempt to ignore the way Derek’s knee and arm brushes his as he sits down.

Conversation is light and easy and mostly consists of them regaling each other with their favourite guest interactions of the summer. Like Erica and Isaac’s story of the dude who accidentally set his shirt on fire with the sparkler from his cocktail or Kira’s story of the girl who fell flat on her face on the treadmill at the gym because she was ogling some guy and almost broke her nose as a result.

It’s fun and comfortable and Stiles can’t help but feel a pang in his chest knowing all this is ending within a week.

“Are all of you coming back next year?” he asks after a while when their food’s gone and they’ve all given up any sense of formality and are just leaning against each other. To be honest, Stiles and Derek are probably the only people still sitting ramrod straight – Kira’s even leaning on Erica, who’s leaning on Boyd. Stiles would just scoot over and rest against Scott’s side but he resists  _just in case_  Derek decides to just fuck it all and curl into him – he can dream, right?

The others are surprisingly quiet for a moment before Boyd answers him. “Probably,” he says, sounding unconcerned. “Peter usually contacts us around Christmas time to renew our contracts; gives us time to figure out if we’re available for the summer our not.”

“Don’t worry, Stilinski. You’re not getting rid of us that easy,” Erica reassures him with a grin. Stiles smiles back, feeling comforted. He feels Derek’s eyes on him long after the conversation changes but he refuses to meet his gaze – he won’t look away if he does.

Conversation eventually trickles down into smaller ones between groups of two or three, Stiles listens for the most part, hyper-aware of Derek by his side. It’s not until the sun has fully set and everyone’s laughing and content as a result of either alcohol, chocolate or both that Stiles finally feels brave enough to nudge Derek’s side and catch his attention.

Derek looks away from the conversation Stiles suspects he wasn’t really paying attention to and meets his gaze.

“Wanna go for a walk?” Stiles asks quietly, trying to force some air back into his lungs and  _calm down_.

Derek eyes the rest of the group for a moment – Danny and Erica are already over at the cooler, digging out more drinks and Scott and Allison had gotten up to go for a romantic stroll on the beach a few minutes ago so it’s not like it’d be conspicuous if they left.

Derek finally looks back to Stiles and nods with a faint smile on his lips. Stiles is incredibly thankful for how involved the others are in their own conversations because most of them don’t even look up when they stand up but Stiles doesn’t miss the considering look and wink Lydia throws his way.

Stiles sets them off in the opposite direction of Scott and Allison – the last thing he wants is to discover those two making out while he’s trying to confess his feelings to Derek.

They walk in silence until they’re well out of hearing range of the group and it’s just edging on the side of awkward if Stiles doesn’t say something soon.

A few more minutes pass and Derek huffs. “Why are you being so quiet?” he asks gruffly. Stiles casts him a sidelong glance and sees his hands stuffed in the pockets of his shorts and his face downturned, like he’s thinking it’s his fault Stiles isn’t talking.

“I thought all you’ve ever wanted is for me to shut up?” Stiles keeps his voice light and teasing, drawing out a quiet sigh of relief when he sees some of the tension in Derek’s posture dissipate.

“That’s not what I want,” Derek mumbles, as if he’s hoping saying it quietly means Stiles won’t hear.

“What do you want, then?” Stiles asks because he’s not gonna let Derek off the hook that easy.

Derek doesn’t answer for a long time, so long that Stiles has pretty much accepted he isn’t going to get an answer but then Derek murmurs a simple, “I like listening to you talk.”

It doesn’t answer Stiles’ question but it doesn’t change the fact that it says  _everything_.

Stiles figures it’s now or never. He keeps walking and looking straight ahead because he’s not sure he can look at Derek for this. He tries to focus on the gentle crashing of the waves to keep himself calm but it’s not really doing a stand-up job.

“So the reason I wanted you to come on this walk is because I wanted to talk to you about something,” Stiles begins after a moment’s hesitation.

Derek makes a noise of assent that basically translates to, “okay, get on with it”.

“Well I mean, I think we’ve come a long way. You and I,” he continues awkwardly. God, what the hell is wrong with him right now? “And I think that- I mean- we’re almost done here, y’know? And-“

Derek cuts him off, putting his hand on Stiles’ arm to make them both stop walking. Stiles turns to face him slowly, warily because he has no idea what Derek’s about to do.

“Stiles,” Derek sighs with a look so resigned and so fucking  _fond,_ he feels his brain short-circuit. “If this is your way of trying to tell me you like me, can you please just say it so I can kiss you?”

And that-

Stiles blinks dumbly at him for far too long, watching the initial confidence he’d seen on Derek’s face slowly start to falter the longer he stays silent.

That, more than anything, kicks his brain back into gear.

“I like you,” he says quietly but his voice doesn’t waver for a second. He’s sure. He means it.

Derek looks at him with something like relief and then he’s kissing him.

It happens so quickly, Stiles needs a second to catch up but he feels Derek’s hands cupping his face and Derek’s lips soft against his and reminds himself to kiss the fuck back.

His hands had flown to Derek’s waist on instinct but now he lets them travel up his sides until his fingers are curling into Derek’s hair. His kisses back probably a little bit too enthusiastically because when he actually starts to move his mouth against Derek’s he ends up accidentally bumping noses with him. Derek huffs a laugh against his lips and it’s most magical thing in the entire planet.

He lets Derek slow him down, guide his face, do whatever the hell he wants really because they’re  _kissing_.

He licks the seam of Derek’s lips, ignoring the growing burn in his lungs from holding his breath, and pushes closer. Derek allows him to deepen the kiss for a moment – a glorious, _dizzying_  moment, but only a moment – and then breaks away only to dart back in once more to place a chaste kiss to the corner of Stiles’ mouth.

Stiles heaves in a grateful lungful of air before he convinces himself to open his eyes. When he does it’s to see Derek staring back at him, a kind of amazement lighting up his eyes and a content smile on his face.

“That was…” Stiles takes in another gulp of air, tries to slow his heart rate down and fails considerably the longer he looks at Derek.

“Wow?” Derek suggests, looking a little short of breath himself.

“Yeah,” Stiles breathes in agreement, letting his hands drop from Derek’s hair to curve around his neck.

“I like you too,” Derek says abruptly. “By the way. I don’t think I said it before…”

“S’okay, you conveyed it pretty clearly,” Stiles grins, smiling even more impossibly wide when Derek rolls his eyes.

Derek tries to disentangle himself from Stiles in an honestly pathetic attempt to pretend to be annoyed but Stiles barely lets him get a foot away before he latches onto Derek’s arm.

“Hey, none of that,” he chastises, pulling Derek back by his hand. Derek’s free arm immediately slides around his back, urging Stiles closer. Stiles’ lips tug upward as he slings an arm around Derek’s neck. “I like you. A lot. Like  _a lot_. Probably more than I’ve ever liked anyone and I don’t really know what to do with all these feelings and I think I might need you to kiss me again because the more I’m talking the more it’s kind of making me panic so could you-“

Derek cuts him off by surging forward again and swallowing the words on Stiles’ tongue. It’s incredibly helpful.

Stiles pulls away with a shaky breath as Derek noses at his cheek. “Thanks,” he exhales.

“No problem,” Derek mumbles and oh, feeling him press his smile into Stiles’ cheek is kind of making his knees feel like jelly?

Derek tilts his head back after a second though to meet his gaze. “All that stuff you said,” he murmurs. “The same goes for me. I don’t really- I’m not very good at the whole relationship, feelings thing but I want to- I want that with you. I want to try.” Derek has this vulnerable, shy look on his face that Stiles never would’ve expected but if possible it just makes even more enamoured by Derek.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Stiles groans, bumping their foreheads together before getting an idea. “Hey, we should definitely make out in the dunes,” he whispers with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“And have you bitch about how you’ve got sand in your underwear for the rest of the night?” Derek asks, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”

“But-  _come on_ ,” Stiles whines, trying to tug him over to the raised sand dunes a few feet away. “Be spontaneous!” he encourages.

Derek laughs – the distinct kind of laugh that means he probably thinks he’s gonna regret this – but he lets Stiles tow him where he wants.

Stiles sits down, leaning back as he pulls Derek down with him. Derek’s careful to put a hand down on the sand by Stiles’ head as he settles on top of him, taking a moment to find all the appropriate places for his limbs.

Finally Derek meets his gaze, smiling automatically when he does, and ducks down to press their lips together.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted his,” he mumbles against Derek’s mouth after a few minutes of soft, brushing kisses and trailing fingers.

“Pretty sure I do,” Derek mumbles back, leaning up on his elbows to look down at Stiles with this look of- of  _reverence_. It’s way too much to deal with. So Stiles kisses him again, slides his fingers under Derek’s t-shirt and exposes his neck when Derek’s lips travel from his mouth to his jaw.

“I was totally trying to get your attention with the whole pranking thing,” he admits, eyes fluttering closed as Derek’s teeth sink into his pulse point.

“Why the hell did you think I was pranking you back?” Derek somehow manages to sound exasperated even as he’s sucking what’ll probably a very impressive hickey into Stiles neck.

Stiles laughs, it sounds far more breathy than he means it to. “You already had my attention, dumbass.”

Derek immediately stops kissing his neck, looking up and narrowing his eyes at Stiles. “Calling me dumbass while we’re making out? Really?”

“Stopping your exploration of my neck so you can make an irrelevant comment? Really?” Stiles raises his eyebrows, feigning unimpressed until Derek cracks a smile and shakes his head, dropping down from where he’d been levered up on his elbow to slot their lips together again.

“Much better,” Stiles hums, sighing contentedly when Derek’s hands skate under his t-shirt.

They kiss for so long Stiles loses all sense of time - too caught up in the way their hands and legs tangle together and the pressure in his chest every time Derek tugs on his hair. Or what it feels like every time Derek grinds down, pressing him into the sand only to relinquish his grip a moment later so Stiles can flip them over and shove Derek’s t-shirt up to press a trail of kisses down his stomach.

Derek eventually stops them, looking like it’s the last thing he wants to do but when Stiles complains he says he’s not having their first time be on a beach with their friends sitting a couple of hundred feet away. Romantic Derek Hale strikes again!

Stiles would probably be more concerned about returning to the group with tousled hair, swollen lips and dishevelled clothing if Derek didn’t look the exact same. It also helps that Derek takes his hand as soon as they’re both standing.

They amble back to the campfire at a fairly leisurely pace which is probably Derek’s way of trying to stave off the teasing for as long as possible. However when they do return all that happens is nine pairs of incredulous eyes take in their mussed states and linked hands, Scott cheers in victory and the rest start grumbling and…exchanging cash?

“What the hell are you doing?” Stiles asks in disbelief at the same time Derek says, “You bet on us?!”

“Yup! And I won!” Scott exclaims gleefully, counting up the bills that’ve all been passed to him.

“You cheated,” Lydia accuses sharply. “I saw you giving Stiles a pep talk earlier.”

“So why didn’t you say anything when he and Derek left?” Scott shoots back smugly. “You knew what would happen.”

“Because it’s about damn time,” she huffs. “And they already surpassed my guess,” she adds bitterly.

Stiles is pretty much at a loss for how to react so he looks at Derek who’s looking at their friends stonily. Which is hilarious since his hair is all over the place and his lips are still swollen and he has a hickey peeking out from under the collar of his t-shirt. So Stiles laughs, drops down next to Scott and drags Derek with him.

Conversation naturally switches to something else after a few minutes but Stiles notices everyone throwing them pleased or encouraging smiles. He ducks his head in embarrassment - but it’s a good kind of embarrassment - and pulls Derek’s hand into his lap, clutching it with both of his and resting his head on Derek’s shoulder.

He could get used to this.

*

The following Saturday he’s on the way to the airport with Scott and trying not to feel too dejected about it.

The last six days had been perfect.

Derek had imposed a strict “no funny business” rule at work that wasn’t really all that strict and involved lots of make outs in the elevator. They had a date on the Tuesday night that really just consisted sitting on the roof to watch the sunset and eating ice-cream – did he mention Derek is totally a romantic sap? He also probably spent more nights in Derek’s room than his own but he doesn’t think Scott was all that bothered by it given that it boded pretty well for him and Allison.

He and Derek had said their official goodbye last night – a goodbye that had lasted like, four hours – but when Stiles woke up this morning Derek hadn’t been in the room and he’d had too many last minute things to do to sit around and wait for him.

He’d tried calling Derek throughout the morning, had even knocked on his hotel room door again just before he had to leave but there’d been no answer.

Part of him thinks it’s Derek’s not-so-subtle way of telling him this was a summer fling and nothing more – an extremely short summer fling but still.

When it’s time to leave everyone sets aside their packing and organising to come say goodbye. They’d said goodbye to Jackson and Danny earlier in the morning when they’d had to leave for their flight. But that goodbye had had far too much making out for Stiles’ liking. Turns out when Lydia and Jackson and Danny and Isaac had actually gotten their shit together none of them were really the types of couples to be concerned with PDA.

Kira gives both him and Scott tight hugs and sincerely tells him how much she’ll miss them. Boyd claps them both on the back, saying it was good to meet them and adding quietly to Stiles that he thinks he’ll be good for Derek. Stiles just smiles tremulously back because Derek’s not even  _here_.

Isaac hugs them both, making sure Scott will come visit him during Spring break like he promised. Erica squeezes Stiles’ so tight he thinks she cuts of his circulation and she tells him she’ll miss him, looking almost misty eyed. “You better call, asshole,” she warns as Boyd slips an arm around her.

“I will,” he promises, giving her a watery smile.

Lydia’s next up to say her goodbyes, she gives them both hugs and a genuine smile before giving Stiles permission to visit her at MIT, it’s like being giving a knighthood from the queen.

Allison hugs Stiles tightly but briefly, telling him she’ll miss him before migrating back over to Scott when a few tears slip out. They haven’t been able to let go of each other for at least twenty-four hours.

Everyone’s convinced they’ll be back next summer and if the meeting he and Scott had had with an extremely pleased Finstock was any indication, they probably will be.

Scott nudges Stiles in the back of the taxi when they’re halfway to the airport and Stiles hasn’t said a word in twenty minutes. “I know you’re bummed, dude, but I’m sure he had an explanation.”

“Yeah, like this didn’t mean as much to him as he pretended it did,” Stiles scowls.

Scott sighs. “You know that’s not true.”

“Dude, Allison was about three seconds away from chasing down our taxi when we left, okay? She couldn’t let go of you. Derek didn’t even show up,” he mumbles desolately.

There’s a twinge of pain on Scott’s face when he mentions Allison and Stiles feels instantly guilty – they’d agreed to do long-distance but Stiles hadn’t missed the tears in either of their eyes as they said their goodbyes. But then Scott gives him a sympathetic smile. “Derek cares about you, Stiles. Like, a lot. Maybe it was just too hard for him to say goodbye.”

“Maybe,” Stiles agrees grudgingly even though his mind won’t let him believe that’s it.

They pull up to the airport about ten minutes later and go through the motions of checking in and going through security. Once they’re finally at their gate Stiles just wants to collapse into a chair and sulk until he has to board the plane but then Derek’s standing there, waiting expectantly and-

Wait.  _What_.

Derek’s standing there. In the middle of the gate with a huge grin on his face. Waiting for…Stiles?

Stiles draws closer, barely noticing the way Scott hangs back a bit to give them space.

“Hi,” Derek says once he’s close enough.

“Hi?” Stiles replies confusedly, not even sure what to feel right now, he’s frozen. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you, I’m finished my Master’s and I wanted to start visiting home more often,” Derek replies, his voice is almost restrained like he’s trying excessively hard to be casual right now.

“You’re-“ Stiles splutters, trying to grasp what’s happening right now.  _“You’re coming to Beacon Hills?”_

Derek nods once, smiling again like he can’t contain it.

Stiles doesn’t give a shit about clichés, he marches straight up to Derek and kisses the breath out of him. Derek catches hold of him, kissing back but Stiles can still feel him smiling against his mouth.

“I thought you didn’t want to see me anymore,” he says incredulously when he breaks away a few moments later.

Derek frowns, “Why would you think that?”

“I- you weren’t there when I woke up this morning and-“

Realisation dawns on Derek’s features and he looks slightly abashed but he presses another kiss to Stiles’ mouth. “I kind of want the opposite of that,” he admits.

Stiles regards him for a moment, sees the earnestness and openness in Derek’s expression and sighs exaggeratedly in relief. “Oh thank god, me too.”

Derek huffs a laugh, hands tightening on Stiles’ waist before he suddenly turns serious. “I don’t know where we’ll end up or how this is gonna work but I don’t want it to end yet,” he says softly. "I think- I think it could be something really important," he continues, staring fixedly down at the hem of Stiles' t-shirt where his thumb is stroking over Stiles' collarbone before he finally looks up, smiling faintly. "I want this to be something really important."

Stiles stares at him, feeling completely awestruck. He doesn’t even know how he’s supposed to say something to top that. In the end he grins, laughing in complete disbelief and squeezes Derek’s shoulders where his hands had been resting on them. “I think…it could be something really important too,” he replies quietly. “Maybe. Someday. I mean, just a little bit. Like, you’re not so bad to be around,” he shrugs offhandedly.

Derek rolls his eyes but his smile isn’t doing anything to convince Stiles he’s actually annoyed and kisses him.

When he pulls back he slides his hand into Stiles’ as Scott comes up to them with a knowing smile on his face.

“Oh my god, you were in on this, weren’t you?!” Stiles demands, smacking Scott’s arm.

“Maybe,” Scott chuckles. “It was worth it for the look on your face, dude.”

Stiles huffs but can’t even pretend to be angry about it. “Hey what’s your seat number?” he asks Derek, turning to him.

“33a,” Derek answers with a grin that says he probably already knows Stiles’ seat is 33b.

“Yeah I’m definitely switching seats,” Scott says, taking in the expressions on both their faces.

Stiles rolls his eyes at him before leaning into Derek to whisper in his ear. “So are we gonna become members of the mile high club?”

“As long as you’re okay with knowing we’ll be greeted by your dad, Scott’s mom and my parents when we get off the plane.”

Stiles makes a face - he hadn’t really thought about that and his dad has a knack for being able to guess that kind of thing and then using it to embarrass the hell out of Stiles for the rest of his life because of it.

But then he looks at the way Derek’s watching him and he decides, fuck it.

“I think I’ll take the risk,” he whispers, mouth slanting up in a smirk.

*

They have sex in the bathroom on the plane. Even if his dad hadn’t been able to tell, Laura’s also waiting for them at the airport and she announces it fairly loudly as soon as she gets a look at them. His dad sighs long-sufferingly but hugs Stiles and tells him he missed him.

“Is there something you need to tell me?” he asks, nodding to where Derek is being engulfed by like ten Hales.

“I don’t know, is there something  _you_  need to tell  _me?”_  Stiles asks his dad, nodding to where Melissa is squeezing the life out of Scott.

“Touché, kid,” his dad replies, huffing fondly. “Stiles, I’m dating Melissa.”

“Dad, that’s Derek,” he says, pointing to Derek who’s now looking over and smiling at him. “We’re dating. Or we’re starting to; we’ve only done the date thing like, once.”

His dad makes a pained face at the implication of what they’ve been doing instead of dates but gives him a genuine smile. “I’m happy for you.”

“Ditto,” Stiles says. “You know me and Scott have always wanted be brothers.”

The sheriff chuckles, quietening down when Derek starts to make his way over. Derek politely introduces himself, shaking the sheriff’s hand, much to Stiles’ amusement before leading Stiles away from everyone for a second.

“Go out with me tonight,” he murmurs as soon as they’ve broken away from everyone else.

“Barely home and you already miss me?” Stiles asks teasingly.

Derek rolls his eyes, “Something like that. Come one, what d’you say? A real date with no prying eyes that also doesn’t involve the inside of the hotel room.”

“Sounds tempting,” Stiles hums. “You gonna do things right? Walk me to the door at the end of the night and everything?”

“Who says you’re going home at the end of the night?” Derek asks, smirking as he tugs Stiles into his space.

“Now  _that’s_  an offer,” Stiles grins. “I’ll guess I’ll see you later then.”

“I’ll call you,” Derek tells him, smiling faintly as he pecks Stiles’ lips and lets him go.

As Derek backs away, grinning and offering a small wave Stiles thinks,  _oh yeah, I’m definitely gonna get used to this._

*

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic is the monster I've been working on for the last two and a half months. It's taken me /forever/ so I sincerely hope you enjoyed it :) (like seriously, pls enjoy it because i literally never thought i'd get it finished) Besides I think everybody needs a little bit of fluffy summer shenanigans in their lives, right? 
> 
> As always, the characters do not belong to me! 
> 
> And if you want to come say hi on tumblr, I'm [ littlespooneven](http://littlespooneven.tumblr.com/) :)


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